THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS 
 
 Scenes ano Stories of Wales 
 
 M. BETHAM EDWARDS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "CHARLIE AND EARNEST; OR, PLAY AND WORK. 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. J. SKILL 
 
 GRIFFITH, FARRAN, OKEDEN & WELSH 
 
 (SUCCESSORS TO NBWBERY AND HARRIS) 
 
 WEST CORNER ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO., NEW YORK
 
 fe 
 
 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 BEATRICE'S DIARY. 
 
 A UGUST 1 8th. We left noisy, but brilliant 
 ** Paris on Wednesday, stayed a night in 
 London, and yesterday travelled by express train to 
 Llangollen. Oh ! what a treat it was to see the 
 fresh green meadows, and cool rivulets, and gleam- 
 ing orchards ! but we came so fast, that we only 
 got a peep at all these. However, we consoled our- 
 selves for such short glimpses by thinking that we 
 should soon be rambling all day long among woods 
 and mountains; for we are going to take a tour 
 through North Wales. There are five of us Aunt 
 Adele, Uncle Louis, my cousin Sylvine, and 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer, our German governess 
 besides the servants. 
 
 I am Beatrice Greenwood, and am fifteen years 
 old ; Sylvine is only twelve, but we are good friends 
 for all that We live in Paris in the winter; but 
 travel somewhere every autumn, for Aunt Adele 
 likes change, and my uncle is very rich. 
 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer is the dearest, kindest 
 creature in the world, and was as pleased as a child 
 
 622701
 
 6 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 to get sight of the Welsh mountains, for they re- 
 minded her of Switzerland, where she has lived many 
 years. I think we shall all enjoy this trip immensely. 
 We have brought with us sketch-books, pencils, paints, 
 a microscope, a tin case for ferns, and a blank book 
 each for diaries not that I think Sylvine will use 
 any of these things, for she is too fond of idleness to 
 care for anything requiring a little patience. Made- 
 moiselle Allemeyer and I, however, intend sketching 
 every pretty view we can, and collecting ferns, 
 grasses, wild flowerc, etc. ; for we both take great 
 interest in such thin js, and she knows a great deal 
 about botany and natural history. 
 
 At Banbury we lunched off the celebrated Banbury 
 cakes, and found them delicious. We afterwards 
 passed through a very smoky district, the great 
 centres of the hardware manufactories and coal 
 mining operations. How dreary the tall black 
 factory chimneys looked with the dusky light issuing 
 from them ! I thought of the poor people who work 
 in the factories, and wondered if ever they got a 
 holiday, and tasted real pure country air. I am 
 sure they must want it 
 
 We caught a passing view of Oxford, with its spires 
 and university towers ; Warwick and its grand old 
 castle, which made me think of the days of War- 
 wick the King-maker ; Lichfield, where that clever, 
 severe Dr Johnson was born, who wrote the Eng- 
 lish Dictionary, and whose Life Boswell has made 
 so interesting; Wolverhampton and Birmingham, 
 where guns, cannon, etc., are made ; and Bildston,
 
 BEATRICE'S DIARY. 7 
 
 with other towns that I cannot remember, where 
 the poor inhabitants are chiefly employed in the 
 collieries. 
 
 About five o'clock we reached Llangollen Road, 
 where we alighted, and immediately proceeded, by 
 coach, to the town. My uncle had ordered a 
 carriage, but by some mistake it did not appear; 
 however, we had no difficulty in getting seats in the 
 coach, and enjoyed the novelty. We rode outside 
 in order to see the valley, and had to climb up 
 steps to get to our seats ; when once seated, I felt 
 as if I could never get down again, we were so far 
 off the ground. What a lovely view we had ! 
 rugged mountains, rich foliage, and the little river 
 Dee making white eddies over its stony uneven bed. 
 Mountain after mountain rose around us. I don't 
 wonder now how the ancient British contrived to 
 keep off their enemies, when they had such natural 
 defences; for, before roads were made, it must 
 have been a great undertaking to climb such 
 heights. Being very tired, we went to bed early, 
 and slept, oh, so soundly ! This morning Sylvine 
 woke me by crying out 
 
 " Oh ! Beatrice, look at the mountains ! look at 
 the pretty river dashing over the stones, and at the 
 donkeys climbing on the hills pray don't sleep any 
 longer." 
 
 I then rose, for it was eight o'clock ; and we 
 breakfasted on fresh trout from the stream. A 
 Welsh harper played in the hall of our hotel all day, 
 and Aunt Adele sent Sylvine to give him half-a-
 
 8 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 crown. He richly deserved it, for he played beauti- 
 fully. After breakfast we went to see Crow Castle. 
 Sylvine and I had donkeys, which clambered up 
 the hill capitally ; and what a steep hill it was ! 
 The ruins of Crow Castle are on the top, and are 
 well worth seeing, for they are said to have been 
 built by the Britons before the Roman invasion. 
 
 After dinner we took a long walk by the canal, 
 which is very clear, and shaded by high banks 
 crowded with trees. A beautiful wild swan rose 
 from the waters just before us, and flew away over 
 the hill. We also saw a squirrel in a little thicket, 
 which greatly delighted Sylvine. Turning off by 
 some slate walks, we came to Valle Crucis (or the 
 Valley of the Cross) Abbey, a ruin of King John's 
 time, and well worthy of being sketched, having 
 a graceful archway entire. Whilst Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer and I sketched, what must Miss Sylvine 
 do, but find her way to a little copse near, and get 
 into conversation with a peasant child, who was 
 perched on a tree gathering acorns. She was the 
 oddest-looking little figure in the world, bare-legged, 
 and wearing a black wide-awake hat and red petti- 
 coat, but having a pretty, good-natured face. She 
 could not speak much English, however, and the 
 dialogue was a curious affair ; it ended by Sylvine 
 giving her a penny, at which the child blushed and 
 smiled as if it were almost too large a sum to take. 
 
 The poor people here seem very clean and civil, 
 but do not speak English well. Susette, our maid, 
 says London is a great deal more to her taste than
 
 THE HOME ON THE HILL-SIDk. 9 
 
 Llangollen ; she says there is not a shop here worth 
 looking at. As if we came all the way from Paris 
 to look at shops ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE HOME ON THE HILL-SIDE. 
 
 "OAR away from busy London, far away from the 
 smoke and bustle of towns, and very, very far 
 removed from wealth and worldliness, lived Jenny 
 Roberts. I hope you are prepared to like her. 
 She was not clever, she was not pretty, she was not 
 free from faults; but she was always so willing to 
 learn her eyes were so bright with content and 
 good-nature and she was so sorry when she had 
 done wrong, that most people who knew her loved 
 her very much. 
 
 She lived in a lonely spot amid the Welsh hills. 
 I think I must describe the place to you, it was so 
 wild and solitary. Her father's cottage stood in 
 a little niche on the side of a high hill, which 
 sheltered it from the cold winds and snows of 
 winter. Standing in Mr Roberts' porch, you could 
 see a vast range of mountains, one rising above the 
 other in countless succession, and varying in colour 
 from violet, orange, dark brown, and emerald. 
 They seemed so high and grand that you might 
 almost fancy you were shut out from the world 
 entirely, and that the inhabitants 01 the valley
 
 I o HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 below could not know what sorrow, or poverty, 
 or sin was. The valley below was very lovely, 
 with rich green pastures, and in the midst a little 
 river, foaming and rushing with a noise like a 
 cataract over its rocky bed. Here and there stood 
 a small white house or stone-built, poor-looking 
 cottage, but they were very few and far between. 
 Cattle and sheep browsed on the turf by the river 
 side, and even high up on the mountains sheep and 
 donkeys might be seen climbing from place to place 
 in search of food, but otherwise the place would 
 have looked quite desolate. You might walk all 
 round the valley and not meet a single living 
 creature. In the autumn, however, it was not so 
 desolate, for Nant Llysin was noted for its scenery, 
 and English travellers visited it in great numbers. 
 
 Jenny's home was a neat little house with gable 
 ends, on which grew bright red creeping flowers, and 
 having a porch ornamented in grey stone. A 
 small garden surrounded it, and a steep path cut in 
 the rock led down to the road beneath. Down 
 this steep path how many times in the day would 
 Jenny run, lightly and swiftly as a squirrel, and very 
 contented was she with her lonely mountain home. 
 She had no brothers or sisters, but she had a father 
 who made a friend of his child, and who made up 
 to her for the want of any other companion. He 
 was alike her teacher, her friend, and her playmate. 
 Oh ! how she loved him ! Her mother had died 
 when Jenny was a baby, so that she never knew 
 what it was to have or lose a mother's love ; but her
 
 TFE HOME ON THE HILL-SIDE, 1 1 
 
 aunt had taken charge of her ever since, and though 
 she was not perhaps so forbearing or so tender as a 
 mother would have been, she was always kind, and 
 the little girl loved her and was grateful. Aunt Ana 
 was, however, no companion to her. She never 
 joined in her games, or studies, or employments, 
 and if it had not been for Mr Roberts she would 
 have felt very solitary. It was impossible to feel 
 dull with him. In the summer they took long 
 walks together, and made collections of ferns and 
 wild flowers ; in the winter she sat on his knees 
 .during the long evenings, and he would tell her of 
 far-off countries, of curious adventures, of strange 
 stories in history, of the habits of birds and animals, 
 of discoveries by sea, or wonders on shore ; and all 
 these subjects he would make as interesting as fairy 
 tales. So, though Jenny had no parties or school- 
 fellows, or pantomimes, or such holiday treats as 
 many of us have, she was blithe as the little bird 
 that sings in the wood, and wished for nothing be- 
 yond. Indeed, she had no time to think about 
 being discontented, even had she been inclined to 
 complain. Up with the lark, she put on her little 
 felt hat, and slinging a small can on one arm, trotted 
 down the rocky path and far down in the valley to 
 fetch milk for breakfast. This was her usual task 
 in summer-time, and she would return looking as 
 healthy and happy as it was possible to be. Break- 
 fast over, she would get together all her books, and, 
 seating herself in the porch, learn her lessons there. 
 Sometimes, when the day was unusually fine, this
 
 It HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 was hard work. Her thoughts would stray very far 
 away, or the mountains would look so grand in the 
 sunlight, or the valley so lovely, that her eyes kept 
 wandering to them instead of her books. Lessons 
 over, she was free to run about at will, unless Aunt 
 Ana wanted her to go on an errand, which she 
 often did when they had visitors, and they generally 
 had a party of travellers during the summer months, 
 for Mr Roberts' income was very small. He was 
 therefore glad to let his three prettiest rooms, and 
 dearly Jenny liked having visitors. Sometimes they 
 would take her out for a drive, sometimes they would 
 lend her a new book, sometimes a pleasant lady or 
 gentleman would chat with her by the hour together, 
 or join in her walks with Mr Roberts. All this 
 made a very delightful change, so that the arrival of 
 tourists was always hailed joyfully by the little girl. 
 
 At the time our story begins she was twelve years 
 old. Her cheeks glowed with health, her eyes 
 beamed with cheerfulness, her voice was merry, and 
 her step was light do you think you shall love 
 her? 
 
 And thus in quiet days of study, and rambles, 
 and happy employments, with no hours of weari- 
 ness, no hours of idleness, no envy of riches, no dis- 
 content at poverty, lived Jenny Roberts in the Home 
 by the Hill-side.
 
 THE VISITORS AT THE VALE OF LLYSIN. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE VISITORS AT THE VALE OF LLYSIN. 
 
 T T was a lovely day in August The sun sparkled 
 on the tiny cascades of the noisy river, the 
 grand old mountains seemed to smile and dimple 
 beneath the passing clouds, the birds sang joyfully* 
 in Mr Roberts' garden, the pretty squirrels frisked 
 amid the branches of the fir-trees. 
 
 " Oh, squirrel, I wish I were you !" thought little 
 Jenny, as she watched one little bright-eyed creature 
 skipping about on the tree opposite. " No lessons 
 to learn, nothing to do but to jump and play all day 
 long." 
 
 "Jenny," called the voice of Aunt Ana from 
 within, "be quick with your lessons this morning, 
 I want you to go to the post-office for me before 
 dinner." 
 
 " Yes, aunty," and the little curly head dived deep 
 into Mangnall's Questions. 
 
 By-and-by it went up again. 
 
 " Aunty, do you think we shall have any visitors 
 soon ? " she asked. 
 
 " That I can't tell," answered Aunt Ana from the 
 parlour; "but if you don't learn your lessons 
 quicker, what will become of my errands if we do 
 have any ? " 
 
 The squirrel gambolled more prettily than ever, 
 but not once did Jenny look up for a quarter oi an
 
 14 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 hour ; then she ran to her father's room and laid hei 
 books before him. 
 
 " Please, papa, will you hear me now, for aunty 
 wants me?" Mr Roberts put away his newspaper 
 good-naturedly, and turning towards her, pointed to 
 the clock. 
 
 "Twenty minutes behind time, Jenny, how is 
 that?" 
 
 " Oh ! dear papa, the squirrel was so pretty, and 
 the birds kept singing, 'Come,' and everything 
 looked so beautiful, that somehow I could not learn 
 to-day." 
 
 He stroked her cheek and smiled. 
 
 "Then I fear we must learn lessons indoors, 
 deary, if there are so many hindrances abroad. 
 But now let us make the most of our time, and then 
 for aunty's errand." 
 
 Over history, globes, arithmetic, botany, and Latin, 
 time passed very quickly, and before lessons were 
 quite finished, Aunt Ana popped her head in at the 
 door and said impatiently 
 
 " Can't you spare Jenny now, Owen ? " 
 
 " If you want her very much she can leave her 
 reading till after dinner," said Mr Roberts, looking up 
 
 " Well, I think she had better do so. The coaches 
 from Caernarvon and Bangor come in at one o'clock, 
 and I want her to run and tell Mrs Williams that 
 we have room for lodgers. Ten to one if there 
 wont be visitors by the coach who will be asking for 
 apartments, and we ought to be making a little 
 money by our rooms now."
 
 THE VISITORS AT THE VALE OF I.LYSIN. 15 
 
 " True," answered Mr Roberts ; " we have been 
 vather unlucky this year : nobody has been to us 
 yet." 
 
 " And I want to buy a new carpet for the parlour 
 to make it comfortable before the winter, and to get 
 Jenny a new dress or two. The child has nothing 
 decent to wear." 
 
 Mr Roberts looked rather sad. 
 
 "Never mind, aunty," exclaimed Jenny, cheer- 
 fully ; " I can do as well without new dresses as you 
 can. We shall have some visitors before long, I 
 dare say." Then putting on her little wide-awake 
 hat and short cloak, she started off to the post-office. 
 
 It was about a mile off by the road ; but Jenny 
 took a shorter route across the pasture, for she had 
 no fear of the quiet black cows who looked up at her 
 as she passed, and the soft grass was far pleasanter 
 to walk upon than the dufety roads. She liked, too, 
 to cross the stepping-stones over the river, and to 
 see the anglers beside it, intent upon their occupa- 
 tion ; sometimes an artist would be there sketching 
 the scene, and would let her look at his picture ; so 
 the walk by the fields was always preferred. The 
 post-office was at the back of a large hotel where the 
 coaches stopped, and having delivered her message 
 Jenny seated herself on a bench in the shade, to 
 watch their arrival. In a few minutes she heard the 
 heavy rumble of wheels, and a coach drove up 
 heavily laden with dust-covered passengers and 
 luggage. 
 
 " Nant Llysin," said the fat, good-tempered coach-
 
 1 6 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 man ; " change horses here, ladies and gentlemen, 
 and stop half-an-hour." ^ 
 
 One by one the travellers alighted and went into 
 the hotel for refreshment ; but to Jenny's great dis- 
 appointment, all returned to the coach again, and 
 after a little delay, resumed their journey. She felt 
 quite angry with them. Such a pretty place as Nant 
 Llysin was, too ! How could they pass through it 
 without spending a single day there ? There was 
 another coach, however, to come in, and as dinner 
 was not to be till two o'clock, she resolved to wait 
 
 By-and-by, a carriage dashed up drawn by a pair 
 of spirited horses, and stopped in front of the hotel, 
 just opposite to where Jenny sat. There a lady, 
 whose glittering silk dress quite dazzled her eyes, 
 alighted, and went in, leaving two girls behind. 
 One was about fifteen, with a clever-looking face and 
 quick black eyes, that never rested on the same 
 thing two minutes together ; Jenny did not know 
 whether she quite liked the look of her or not ; but 
 the little girl she loved at once. She was about her 
 own age, and was very pretty, with small features 
 and long dark hair, which was brushed off her fore- 
 head and hung in curls around her shoulders. Her 
 dress, too, moved Jenny to admiration, the little 
 white hat and feather, and the delicate blue dress, 
 looked so well together, she thought 
 
 Soon a gentleman rode up on horseback, and en- 
 tered into conversation with them. 
 
 " Are you going to stay here, Beatrice ? " he said 
 to the elder girl.
 
 THE VISITORS AT THE VALE OF LLYSIN. I'/ 
 
 " I don't know yet," she answered. " Aunt Adele 
 is gone in to arrange about it." 
 
 Just then the lady came out 
 
 " Oh ! you have come just in time to give me 
 your opinion. Shall we stay here or go on ? " 
 
 "It seems to be a good place for fishing. I 
 should like very well to stay," he said. 
 
 " And what do you say, Beatrice ? " 
 
 " I think we could get some pretty sketches here, 
 and I have noticed a great many beautiful ferns. I 
 should like to stay a little while." 
 
 "And you, Sylvine?" 
 
 1 " It would be good fun to cross those stepping- 
 stones do stay, mamma." 
 
 " Then I see no objection to the place," resumed 
 the lady ; " we must, however, inquire after nice 
 quiet lodgings " 
 
 Jenny jumped from her seat, and rushing across 
 the road, stood before the party breathless with 
 excitement. Then with a slight blush and some 
 hesitation, she said simply 
 
 " If you please, papa has rooms to let." 
 
 They all seemed a little astonished, and the elder 
 girl looked so hard at her that she dropped hei 
 eyelids shyly; but, thought Jenny, I have only done 
 what is right, and I do not mind what is thought 
 of me. 
 
 "And where does your papa live?" asked the 
 gentleman, with a smile. 
 
 " There," said Jenny, pointing to her father's 
 cottage, which looked very small in the distance ; 
 B
 
 1 8 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 "we live in the white house at the foot of the 
 mountain. It is such a pretty place." 
 
 "But I am afraid there would not be room for 
 us, my child. One two three four, we should 
 want four bed-rooms, and two or three sitting- 
 rooms." 
 
 The little girl's eyes glistened with tears of disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 "We want so much to let our rooms," she said, 
 artlessly. 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! dear mamma ! " cried Sylvine, 
 springing up in the carriage, " do let us go to her 
 papa's. We should only want three rooms. I 
 could sleep with Beatrice." 
 
 " We have three rooms," said Jenny. 
 
 "Well, said the lady, "we can at least go and 
 see. Would you like to drive with us, my dear, to 
 your father's house?" 
 
 You may suppose Aunt Ana, who was setting the 
 dinner table, stared not a little to see Jenny seated 
 beside such smartly-dressed ladies, and wondered 
 how she came there. , Mr Roberts too, could hardly 
 believe his eyes. However, it was soon explained, 
 and then Mr and Mrs D'Aubencourt looked at the 
 rooms, whilst Beatrice and Sylvine walked round the 
 garden with Jenny. 
 
 " Oh ! what a dear little summer-house cut in the 
 rock, and what delightful dangerous little places to 
 climb, and what a lovely clear spring ! " cried 
 Sylvine, breathless with eagerness ; and stooping
 
 THE VISITORS AT THE VALE OF LLYSIN. 19 
 
 down, she held her little hands beneath the sparkling 
 water and drank from them. 
 
 "And what else is dear, deligh'.ful, and lovely?" 
 asked Beatrice, smiling, half with amusement, half 
 with annoyance. 
 
 "But don't you think everything is pretty here?" 
 asked Sylvine, a little damped. 
 
 "Not everything, certainly. The house has a 
 bleak, comfortless look, and the garden is bare of 
 flowers. Don't think that I dislike the place," she 
 added, as she saw Jenny's paim-d look, " I think it 
 has a splendid view, and is very romantic ; but 
 'Sylvine makes me out of patience her tongue runs 
 on so." Then she took Jenny':; hand with a kindly 
 smile, and after that, in spite of her sharp speeches, 
 she liked her. 
 
 To Jenny's unspeakable delight, Aunt Ana soon 
 came out with the news that Mr and Mrs D'Auben- 
 court had engaged the rooms, and begged the young 
 ladies to come in and take off their hats and cloaks. 
 
 Sylvine jumped for joy, clapped her hands, and 
 then throwing her arms round Jenny's neck, kissed 
 her warmly, and exclaimed " t am sure we shall 
 have such nice games together. How delightful ! " 
 Beatrice followed Aunt Ana to the house in silence, 
 thinking to herself 
 
 " Where on earth shall I put my sketching tent 
 and books?"
 
 20 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JENNY'S NEW FRIEND. 
 
 A/fONSIEUR and Madame D'Aubencourt were 
 wealthy, and fond of change. They resided 
 in Paris during the winter and spring months, but 
 spent the latter part of the summer and the entire 
 autumn in travelling from place to place. Sylvine 
 was their only child, and always accompanied them. 
 She was very much spoiled, but fortunately had a 
 nice disposition ; and thus, though she was often self- 
 willed, was never ungrateful or selfish, and many 
 loved her. 
 
 Beatrice Greenwood was Sylvine's cousin, and an 
 orphan. Her parents had died when she was but 
 six years old, and since then her uncle and aunt 
 D'Aubencourt had brought her up, and educated hei 
 as their own child. She was a high-spirited, clever 
 girl, rather apt to find fault with others, rather given 
 to think too highly of her own acquirements, and 
 rather disposed to look scornfully on those who had 
 inferior abilities to herself; but when she made 
 friends, she never neglected or forgot them, and 
 when she had once resolved to overcome a difficulty, 
 she never rested till it was done. Perhaps she felt a 
 little jealous of Sylvine sometimes perhaps she 
 envied her the depth and sweetness of her parents' 
 love ; but if so, it was but natural, for she had no 
 friends or protectors in the world but Monsieur and 
 Madame D'Aubencourt, and she loved them 
 vdently.
 
 JENNY'S NEW FRIEND. 21 
 
 It was arranged that Beatrice and Sylvine, with 
 their governess and maid, who came by the evening's 
 coach, were to stay at Mr Roberts's, whilst Monsieur 
 and Madame D'Aubencourt proposed taking up their 
 residence at a quiet hotel near. You may imagine 
 how delighted the two little girls were, and how a 
 very warm friendship sprang up between them the 
 first day of their acquaintance. Of course Beatrice 
 teased Sylvine about her hasty friendships, and had 
 her little sarcastic speeches ready upon every 
 occasion, but sometimes she was so really kind that 
 Jenny readily forgave her. A day or two passed 
 1 very pleasantly. Jenny pursued her studies every 
 morning, as usual, with her father, and Beatrice and 
 Sylvine had their regular hours of study with 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer, their German governess; 
 but I fear that it was very little Sylvine learned. 
 Partly by coaxing, partly by pouting, she obtained 
 holidays without end, and was only impatient that 
 Jenny should have equal liberty. " I'll tell you what 
 it is, Jenny," she said one day, in her droll, 
 Frenchified English, " I can't amuse myself all the 
 mornings without you anyhow ; and I will summon 
 up courage to speak to your papa about it; but 
 somehow he is so different from anybody I ever saw, 
 that I am quite afraid of him." 
 
 " Afraid of papa ! " Jenny exclaimed, half vexed ; 
 * everybody loves papa so much." 
 
 " So do I I love him I am sure I do : but you 
 don't know what I mean, Jenny. When I say I am 
 afraid of him, I mean that I can't say to him what I
 
 22 HOLIDAY'S AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 do to everybody. Now I think it is a shame for 
 him to keep you to your lessons whilst I am here ; 
 and, after all, you learn a great many things which 
 mamma says are quite useless. Mamma says if I 
 learn dancing, and music, and singing well, she 
 does not care about anything else, and none of these 
 does he teach you." 
 
 Jenny looked puzzled and grave. 
 
 "You are different from me, Sylvine," she said at 
 last ; " I am sure papa teaches me all that he thinks 
 I ought to know." 
 
 " Well," said the little lady, confidently, " I don't 
 think there is any use in learning those dry sort of 
 books." 
 
 " But papa Is so much older than we are, dear j 
 of course he knows best." 
 
 " Of course he must," exclaimed a voice behind 
 them, and looking up the little girls saw Mr Roberts 
 at the door. A smile was on his lips could he 
 have heard her words ? was Sylvine's first thought. 
 A bright blush rose to her cheeks, and running up 
 to him, she exclaimed, with a comic mixture of 
 repentance and mirthfulness 
 
 " Oh ! Mr Roberts, did you hear what I was 
 saying ? if you did, please don't scold." 
 
 " Little girls should never say things I should not 
 hear," he answered; "but I will hope you were 
 saying something good, for I assuredly only caught 
 Jenny's last words." 
 
 His kind playfulness encouraged Sylvine, and she 
 said, placing her little hands coaxingly in his own
 
 THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAINS. 23 
 
 " Do give Jenny a holiday, you dear, kind, darling 
 Mr Roberts." He put up his hands as if shocked, 
 and ran out of the room without a word. 
 
 The children followed him, and all three had a 
 good game of hide-and-seek in the garden. Always 
 full of fun, always in good temper, always ready to 
 devise a new game or improve upon an old one, was 
 there ever so delightful a playmate as Mr Roberts ? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 , mamma, cried Sylvine, one morning, 
 as she rushed into her mother's dressing- 
 room, " Jenny is going to market to buy eggs and 
 fruit may I go with her?" 
 
 " My dear, go to market ! how can you ask such 
 a thing ? " 
 
 " But, mamma, Jenny is going why may not I ?" 
 
 Madame D'Aubencourt smoothed Sylvine's 
 crumpled silk dress, and looked grave, 
 
 " What Jenny Roberts does is quite another thing. 
 Consider, darling, the difference of your stations ; it 
 is all very well for you to be kind and friendly to 
 her, but do not get too intimate; and as to your 
 going to market with her like any little common 
 cottage girl, I would not think of it for one 
 moment." 
 
 Sylvine burst out into a passionate fit of crying.
 
 24 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " I would rather be a little common cottage girl, 
 mamma, and then I could do as Jenny does. I 
 would a great deal sooner go to market, and fetch 
 milk and keep house, than ride in a carriage. If 
 Jenny is poor, why should I not make her my friend 
 all the same ? she is ten times more good-natured 
 than Adele, or Ziphyrine, or cousin Beatrice, or 
 Appiline ; and I love her better than any of them." 
 
 "Hush, my love," said Madame D'Aubencourt, 
 soothingly ; " I have no fault to find with Jenny, but 
 of course there is a great difference between you, and 
 what is very right and proper for her to do, would 
 be very unbecoming in one of a superior station." 
 
 Sylvine, however, would not be reasoned with or 
 consoled, and having shed many tears, retired to the 
 window in sullen silence. By-and-by she saw little 
 Jenny come forth from the cottage, dressed in her 
 neat grey stuff frock, and wearing her usual shabby 
 hat, but looking as bright and happy as if she had 
 worn the gayest silks weavers ever made. On her 
 arm she carried a good-sized basket designed for 
 her purchases, and having looked up at the hotel 
 window, with a nod and smile to Sylvine, off she 
 trotted. Her way lay through the valley and over a 
 high hill where the path was cut zig-zag in the rock, 
 and beside which grew lovely ferns, and clusters of 
 firs abounding with squirrels. At the foot of the 
 hill she had to cross the river by means of stepping- 
 stones, and then a shady path by the water's edge 
 led to the little town where the market was held. 
 Now Jenny had described all these beauties to
 
 THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAINS. 25 
 
 Sylvine with great enthusiasm (for she dearly loved 
 every inch of her wild, beautiful country), and the 
 little girl's heart burned with impatience to be with 
 her friend. Disappointed and miserable, she 
 returned to Mr Roberts' cottage. 
 
 Beatrice was busily painting in their pleasant little 
 sitting-room. Plump, good-natured Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer read aloud to her from a French book. 
 Both looked up at Sylvine's approach. 
 
 " Why, what a grave face my little cousin has ! " 
 exclaimed Beatrice, "What is the matter, Sylvine?" 
 . " Oh ! Beatrice, I wish I were a little cottage girl 
 I wish my mamma and papa were as poor as Mr 
 Roberts." 
 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer took off her spectacles 
 and shrugged her shoulders. " What a little unwise 
 child it is !" she said in French; "I only wish my 
 papa and mamma were as rich as yours, my dear." 
 
 " What is the use of being rich if we can't do as 
 we like?" asked Sylvine, gloomily. 
 
 " And if you were a little cottage girl, I suppose 
 you could do as you liked always, Sylvine ?" said 
 Beatrice. " Of course you would never be obliged 
 to go out on errands in the wet and cold, of course 
 you would never be obliged to eat brown bread and 
 cabbage soup, when you would rather have roast 
 pheasant and custard pudding, of course you would 
 never have to go barefoot when your father should 
 happen to be without work 
 
 " Beatrice, how can you be so unkind as to laugh 
 at me in that way ? I will never, never tell you my
 
 20 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 thoughts again," said Sylvine, indignantly, and wept 
 afresh. 
 
 " Don't cry, little one," interposed kind Mademoi- 
 selle Allemeyer, " I am sure Beatrice did not mean 
 to hurt your feelings." 
 
 "Not for the world, my dear little cousin," said 
 Beatrice, rising from her chair and kissing her im- 
 petuously; "why do you get such ideas in your 
 head ? they only make us unhappy." 
 
 Now Sylvine very clearly saw that she was in the 
 wrong, and that she had nobody to blame but her- 
 self, but like a little foolish, spoilt thing as she was, 
 must needs give way to her temper, and uttering 
 some more angry words, put on her hat and rushed 
 into the garden. 
 
 "I will go and meet Jenny," she thought, and 
 noiselessly opening the little wicker gate, she ad- 
 vanced towards the valley. How beautiful every- 
 thir; ^ was ! The sun sparkled on the small cascades 
 of the river the mountains gleamed with the purple 
 and gold of heaths and ferns the wild swan rose 
 graceful and lovely from the water's edge, and the 
 little bright-eyed squirrel hopped from bough to 
 bough. But Sylvine had no admiration for these. 
 A heart that is discontented within itself is utterly 
 lost to the beauties of the outer world, and Sylvine 
 felt almost provoked that the skies were not gloomy 
 to suit her own feelings. Everything seemed to say 
 
 "Why are you not happy?" 
 
 And as she knew that her own folly hindered her 
 from being so, it was a double vexation.
 
 THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAINS. 2^ 
 
 On she went in moody thought. By-and-by she 
 came to the foot of the mountain which she had 
 seen Jenny cross, and taking the first pathway, be- 
 gan to ascend. She soon found, however, that it 
 was very hard work. To a little nimble mountaineer 
 like Jenny Roberts it was an easy matter enough to 
 climb the highest rock in Bretteyn, but to delicate 
 Parisian Sylvine, who always had a pony phaeton 
 and servant at her command, this climbing, and 
 panting, and scramble was by no means pleasant. 
 Her shoes, too, were of the thinnest-soled kid, and 
 before she had got half way up they were quite dis- 
 figured by scratches and tears, whilst the sharp 
 stones hurt her feet However, she would not turn 
 back. It was more than an hour before she reached 
 the summit ; and there a wild strange scene was be- 
 fore her. To the right to the left in front, 
 stretched one after the other a constant succession 
 of hills. Not a house was in sight not a single 
 human being. Here and there on the little patches 
 of green were donkeys or sheep feeding but oh ! 
 how quietly I At the foot of the mountain on which 
 she stood was a narrow foot-path, which wound to- 
 wards another hill in the distance. There was also 
 a path in the contrary direction. The little girl 
 stood irresolute. Which would she take? Which 
 had Jenny taken ? 
 
 "I'll try the one that winds towards the hill," 
 she determined at last " Any how, I can turn back 
 again." 
 
 By-and-by she felt a large drop of rain fall on her
 
 28 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 cheek, and looking up, saw that the sky was overcast 
 and threatening. In five minutes more, rain poured 
 down in torrents, the wind blew, the lightning flashed ; 
 then a tremendous peal of thunder rolled overhead. 
 
 Sylvine looked round in terror. The mountain- 
 tops were covered with mist the rain came down 
 with increasing force the place was utterly solitary. 
 Where should she find shelter? Rushing franticly 
 hither and thither in the vain hopes of finding some 
 cover from the storm, soon she was drenched to the 
 skin. In her first hurry and fright, the strings of her 
 hat had loosened, and it fell unheeded, leaving her 
 long curls to be tangled and soaked by the wind and 
 rain. At last she caught sight of a short overhang- 
 ing furze, and crouching beneath it, shielded herself 
 a little from the violence of the storm. 
 
 It did not last long, however, for in Wales storms 
 are generally short and severe. Soon the sun shone 
 out. A rainbow hung over the hills. The clouds 
 shook off a few last drops, and rolled away in the 
 distance. Then Sylvine emerged from her covert ; 
 trembling in every limb with the chill of her wet 
 clothes, her bright blue dress all stained, and jagged, 
 and bespattered ; her little shoes ragged, and covered 
 with mud ; her hair clinging to her shoulders in one 
 long damp mass. 
 
 Her first thought was of return; but then the 
 dreary, toilsome mountain ! and so wearied as she 
 was. Tears came into her eyes, and she walked to- 
 wards the mountain with slow steps. 
 
 Just then she heard a voice calling to her from
 
 THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAINS. 29 
 
 behind. Oh ! what a joyful sound it was ; and 
 looking round, she saw a man on the hill opposite, 
 who carried something in his arms, which looked 
 like a little lamb. He shouted to her, and though 
 she could not understand what he said, she stood 
 still and awaited his approach. 
 
 " Perhaps he will show me the way home," she 
 thought; " and if not, why should I be afraid of him? 
 Mr Roberts said the other day only wicked people 
 need be afraid of anything or anybody ; and I hope 
 I'm not very wicked." 
 
 As he came near, she saw that his face was good- 
 natured, and he held tenderly in his arms a poor 
 little lamb. Sylvine immediately liked him ; she 
 liked everybody who was kind to animals, and going 
 up to him, she stroked the tiny creature gently, and 
 said, 
 
 " Has it fallen from the rock?" 
 
 He shook his head. 
 
 " Is it ill ? " 
 
 Again he shook his head. Ah ! thought Sylvine, 
 he is Welsh ; he does not understand me. Then 
 she pointed with her finger in the direction of 
 Bretteyn, trying to make him understand she wanted 
 to go there. His face brightened. 
 
 " Nant Llysin Hotel?" he said. 
 
 " From Mr Roberts's," she answered, and he 
 smiled, and touched her dripping dress. 
 
 " Must change " 
 
 "But I must get home first," said Sylvine, and 
 pointed towards Llysin again.
 
 30 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 He held up his hand in the opposite direction. 
 " Change there go home dry not catch cold." 
 She guessed his meaning, and followed him along 
 a narrow path which led down to a hollow, where, 
 entirely shut in by rocks and trees, was a little cot- 
 tage. The door stood open, and an old woman, 
 wearing a high-crowned black hat, and busily knitt- 
 ing stockings, sat by the fireplace. A neat little girl 
 peeled potatoes at the table, and Sylvine remembered 
 to have seen her face at church. This the child 
 seemed to remember also, for she curtsied, and said 
 something to the amazed old lady ; and at a request 
 from the man left the room. By-and-by she re- 
 turned, bearing on her arms a coarse, but tidy, striped 
 woollen frock, a black wide-awake, a calico pinafore, 
 and a pair of thick leather shoes with wooden soles. 
 She then beckoned Sylvine aside with a half-timid, 
 half-proud manner (for evidently the little maiden 
 was pleased to lend the young lady her clothes), and 
 in a kind of back kitchen assisted her to dress. 
 Sylvine felt in her pockets, and was quite sorry *o 
 find only twopence halfpenny, a silver thimble, and 
 kaleidoscope to give ; but the child seemed ready to 
 cry with joy, and curtsied over and over again. The 
 man now came forward, and Sylvine having almost 
 forgotten her past discomforts, walked quite gaily by 
 his side towards Bretteyn, and chatted to him all the 
 way, not ten words of which could he understand, 
 though he now and then nodded kindly, as if to say 
 he guessed it.
 
 THE WONDERFUL PILL. T 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WONDERFUL PILL. 
 
 "DUT I think it was a long time before Sylvine 
 *"^ forgot that storm amid the mountains. In the 
 first place, a bad cold, which she caught from ex- 
 posure to the rain, kept her in bed two days a thing 
 she particularly disliked ; and then she had many 
 reproofs from Mademoiselle Allemeyer for going out 
 without her permission, thus occasioning great 
 anxiety to all, especially to her parents. But it was 
 Mr Roberts who, more than all, impressed this event 
 on her mind. Of course, Jenny must needs repeat 
 all her dear Sylvine's adventures to her father, for 
 she never felt satisfied in her mind till she heard his 
 opinion on everything ; and you may be sure that 
 he by no means approved of little girls running off 
 to all sorts of wild places without permission, just 
 because they happened to be ill-tempered at a con- 
 tradiction. So on the first evening of Sylvine's re- 
 covery from her cold, he called Jenny to him, and 
 said 
 
 " Run and call Sylvine hither. I am going to tell 
 you a story in the twilight." 
 
 Sylvine had not yet seen Mr Roberts since her un- 
 lucky freak, and she now peeped in with a shy smile 
 and a blush. 
 
 Mr Roberts smiled on his hearers, and then 
 began
 
 32 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS- 
 
 THE STORY OF THE WONDERFUL PILL. 
 
 " When I was a boy I went to a large school in 
 the suburbs of London. It was a private establish- 
 ment, and the gentleman who kept it was a philo- 
 sopher in other words, a lover of wisdom. 
 
 "Well, Professor Markham, in spite of our idle- 
 ness and stupidity, and countless other troublesome 
 qualities, never gave up the hope of making us wise 
 in time, and worked at his task with more patience 
 and earnestness and zeal than I can by any words 
 express to you. Ah ! if we boys had worked but 
 one quarter so hard ourselves, what shining men his 
 pupils would have become ! Your father, Jenny, 
 might perhaps have been by this time Lord Chan- 
 cellor, or a great writer like Lord Macaulay, or a 
 speaker in Parliament like Lord Palmerston " 
 
 " Hush) papa, and go on," exclaimed Jenny. 
 
 " Well, my dears," resumed Mr Roberts, " let me 
 only warn you both. Should it ever be your lot to 
 dwell near a lover of wisdom, catch every word that 
 falls from his mouth, and treasure it up like a gold 
 guinea. Oh ! the guineas we might get ! But now 
 to go on. It was Professor Markham's custom to 
 give a prize every Christmas to the boy who could 
 solve a riddle which he usually composed himself, 
 and a fortnight's time was given for the solution. 
 This riddle was copied out on a little slip of paper 
 for each boy, and we were all forbidden, on our 
 honour, to consult with each other about it. I will 
 say that during the three years I was in the school, I
 
 THE WONDERFUL PILL. 33 
 
 never knew this rule to be broken. Idle and mis- 
 cheivous we all were, but we despised a lie. On the 
 day of the breaking-up, the solutions of the riddle 
 were all sent in to the master sealed, and at the dis- 
 tribution of the other prizes, a prize was awarded to 
 the one who had guessed aright, both riddle and 
 answer being read aloud. 
 
 "At last the day came. A good many of our 
 friends and relations were assembled to hear the 
 examination poems and compositions read, and to 
 see the prizes distributed. On a large arm-chair, 
 his'silver spectacles in his hand, his benevolent face 
 smiling on us all, sat the Professor. Oh ! the dear, 
 kind old man ! what hearts we boys must have had, 
 to have vexed him as we sometimes did ! Many and 
 many a time when I have passed by the old school 
 in later years, tears have come into my eyes to 
 think that he was dead, and that I could never, 
 never tell him my gratitude and my penitence. 
 Think of this, little girls, and never be undutiful 
 to teachers who spend so much time and pains in 
 instructing you." 
 
 Sylvine here blushed a little, and whispered to 
 Jenny ; 
 
 " I'll never speak rudely to Mademoiselle again, 
 never; if she were to die how wicked I should 
 feel !" 
 
 Mr Roberts took no notice, and continued 
 
 " I remember a good many boys had prizes that 
 year, and the Professor was greatly pleased with 
 C
 
 34 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 our improvement. This he told us in a little 
 speech, in which he said " 
 
 "Oh! please, Mr Roberts, don't tell us the 
 speech till afterwards, we so want to hear about 
 the riddle," exclaimed Sylvine. 
 
 " I must tell my story my own way, and I think 
 it will do you no harm to exercise your patience 
 a little, as the Professor did ours," said Mr Roberts, 
 at which Sylvine, feeling somewhat reproved, looked 
 as patient as she could, though she was dying with 
 curiosity. 
 
 " The Professor said he was more especially 
 satisfied to find that we had exercised great and 
 silent patience regarding the riddle, which he 
 confessed he had made as difficult as possible, but 
 which he said had been admirably solved." 
 
 "Then I'm sure you did it," cried Jenny, for- 
 getting everything in her eagerness. 
 
 " Patience, if you please," said Mr Roberts, " and 
 you shall hear the riddle : 
 
 " There is a certain pill made up of very bitter 
 ingredients that we are very fond of dosing ourselves 
 withy though it makes us very ill afterwards, and 
 cures no ailments whatever. Query the composition, 
 nature, and effects of this medicine ?" 
 
 "Now, children, can you guess this riddle?" 
 
 "I think I can," said Sylvine, "it means ices; I 
 always eat them when I can get a chance, they are 
 so nice; but I am always sick afterwards." 
 
 " Wrong," said Mr Roberts.
 
 THE WONDERFUL PILL. 35 
 
 " Then it must be difficult, indeed," demurely an- 
 swered Sylvine, and puzzled again. 
 
 " I think I know, father," said Jenny, half-shfly ; 
 " it means being fond of fine clothes, for you have 
 often told me that vain people only get laughed at, 
 and being laughed at is as bad as a pill, I should 
 think." 
 
 " Wrong again," said her father, smiling. 
 
 " Well, then you must tell us," pleaded both the 
 little girls. And Mr Roberts said : 
 
 " Hi-temper is a pill that we are often dosing our- 
 selves with, for no doctor ever recommended such a 
 thing. It makes us miserable for hours, sometimes 
 days afterwards, and does every harm, but no good, 
 ft is made up of Discontent, Selfishness, and Vanity, 
 and has the power of making the prettiest face ugly, 
 and the pleasantest face disagreeable. 
 
 " I got the prize, which was the very prayer-book 
 i now use ; and now, little girls, how do you like 
 my story?" 
 
 "Oh! what a delightful, curious, puzzling tale?" 
 cried Sylvine. " I never read one in all my books 
 I like half so well" 
 
 " I never like written stories so well as papa's," 
 said Jenny, quietly ; " I suppose it is because he is 
 a philosopher." 
 
 "Of course," Sylvine said; and she liked the 
 story so well that she never forgot it, and it kept 
 her from many a sulky fit in after days.
 
 36 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY. 
 
 " T ENNY," said Sylvine one morning, " I wonder 
 J that you do not get tired of leading such a 
 dull life no parties no new dresses no play- 
 fellows no visits it would not suit me at all." 
 
 "I never feel dull; my lessons are an amuse- 
 ment, and you know, Sylvine, I have never been 
 used to parties and such things, so I don't feel the 
 want of them." 
 
 "But I'm sure in the winter you must feel very 
 dreary with nothing but those dismal mountains to 
 look on." 
 
 " They never look dismal to me," said the little 
 Welsh girl, heartily. " I love to see them, either 
 in the sunshine or the snow. And all the winter 
 nights papa tells me such delightful stories about 
 Prince Llewellyn and Owen Glendower. Oh ! 
 Sylvine, if you could hear papa, you would learn to 
 love the mountains." 
 
 Sylvine made no answer, but did not look con- 
 vinced ; and Jenny felt vexed. Ah ! she thought, 
 she is already tired of me, and of Llysin; she 
 misses her Parisian friends and amusements : and 
 Jenny was in a measure right. The little French 
 girl had been so accustomed to change and 
 pleasure, that she soon grew tired of the peaceful 
 tranquillity of such a spot. She was too indolent to 
 amuse herself with drawing, or reading, or botany,
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY.i 37 
 
 as Beatrice did, and as it was now her holiday time, 
 she only did holiday tasks. If Jenny had been 
 equally idle, and could have been with her all the 
 day, she would not have minded ; but her mornings 
 were very long in solitary pleasure seeking, and 
 she envied Jenny's happy face of content. 
 
 " I cannot think how it is, Beatrice," she said one 
 day, " but though Jenny is poor, and I am rich, she 
 is a great deal happier than I." 
 
 Here Madame D'Aubencourt entered. She al- 
 ways called at Mr Roberts's every morning. 
 
 "Sylvine," she said, smilingly, "here is grand 
 news for you. Papa has determined to leave Bretteyn, 
 and make the tour of all North Wales, and he has 
 decided upon taking Beatrice and you with him " 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Adele, how charming," cried Beatrice, 
 clapping her hands. " Only consider, Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer, what sketches we shall make, what lovely 
 scenery we shall pass through." 
 
 " Sylvine does not seem to approve of the plan," 
 said Madame D'Aubencourt, looking disappointed. 
 "What is the matter, my love?" 
 
 " I should like to go ; but I don't wish to leave 
 Jenny," and Sylvine's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " But, my child, this is folly ; you know that you 
 must leave Jenny sooner or later; she cannot go 
 back to Paris with us." 
 
 Sylvine twined her arms around her mother's neck, 
 and whispered entreatingly 
 
 "Mamma, mayn't she take the tour through 
 Wales? Do say yes."
 
 38 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Madame D'Aubencourt looked grave. 
 
 " My dear, I think you are unreasonable in ask- 
 ing such a thing. Surely Beatrice is a companion 
 for you. Why do you need any one else ?" 
 
 "But Beatrice is three years older than I, and 
 Jenny is just my age, you know, mamma ; and oh, 
 it would be such a treat to her, poor little thing. I 
 know it would." 
 
 "Jenny is contented enough where she is," 
 answered Madame D'Aubencourt. 
 
 " But I should like her to go with me, dearest 
 mamma," pleaded Sylvine, earnestly. 
 
 "Well, we must consult papa," replied her 
 mother; "but don't hope too much, for I cannot 
 think he will consent to it" 
 
 That same day, however, M. D'Aubencourt re- 
 ceived an unexpected letter from some old friends, 
 who were residing at Bangor, urging him to go and 
 spend some weeks there. It was therefore arranged, 
 that whilst Monsieur and Madame D'Aubencourt 
 stayed with Mr Armitage, Beatrice and Sylvine, 
 under the conduct of Mademoiselle Allemeyer, 
 should make a tour of the beautiful neighbour- 
 hood of Nant Llysin; and in this excursion Jenny 
 was invited to join. Mr Roberts at first hesitated, 
 but seeing that the invitation was really cordial, 
 consented. This plan, as may be imagined, occa- 
 sioned universal satisfaction, and it would be difficult 
 to tell which face was the brightest, Jenny's or Syl-
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY. 39 
 
 vine's. Perhaps Jenny's anticipations were the most 
 pleasurable ; for it must be remembered she had 
 never travelled, and Sylvine had already visited 
 many places in France, Belgium, and England. 
 Oh ! the delight of packing up ! Oh ! the unspeak- 
 able delight of seeing Gelert's Grave, and Snowdon, 
 and Carnarvon Castle ; and hundreds of scenes that 
 she had heard of often and often during the long 
 winter evenings. 
 
 The little girls had a great deal to consult Mr 
 Roberts about before starting on their first trip, and 
 he it was who procured them their nice little red- 
 bound diaries, their pointed sticks for climbing 
 the mountains, their water-proof cloaks, and cotton 
 umbrellas. 
 
 " Oh ! father," said Jenny, on the evening before 
 departure, " what lots I shall have to talk about all 
 the winter evenings." 
 
 "And instead of listening to stories, you will be 
 able to tell me plenty," said Mr Roberts. 
 
 "You must read my diary, papa, and so must 
 Aunt Ana." 
 
 "If you wish me to read it, you must write it 
 plainly," exclaimed Aunt Ana, looking up from her 
 stocking mending. 
 
 " I will, aunty ; only sometimes, perhaps, I shall 
 be too hurried and flurried to write well." 
 
 "When you are hurried and flurried, or on the 
 top of Snowdon, or outside a coach, or on a donkey's 
 back, I should advise you not to write at all," an- 
 swered Aunt Ana, who was rather impatient at young
 
 40 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 people's disorderly habits ; " and mind, Jenny, never 
 go out without taking your umbrella. Though 
 your dress is not handsome, it is worth taking 
 care of." 
 
 "And have your eyes about you," rejoined Mr 
 Roberts; "see all you can and make the most of 
 your opportunities ; for Nature is the glorious book 
 that God lays open to all ; we neither want dictionary 
 nor grammar to understand it; but only inquiring 
 minds and truth-loving hearts." 
 
 Sylvine, who was sitting very quietly by, now 
 looked up with an expression of earnestness very un- 
 usual to her. 
 
 " I don't think I quite understand what you mean, 
 Mr Roberts," she said. 
 
 "I mean this, Miss Sylvine. There are many 
 pleasuresjHid privileges which are only to be obtained 
 by money, such as fine houses, handsome carriages, 
 rich dresses, and the like. But all these are far from 
 being the best gifts of God. They are gifts, doubt- 
 less, and we ought to be thankful for them ; still, He 
 has given us more precious things still. What are 
 so beautiful as the stars, and sea, and flowers? 
 What sight so grand as the stars, and sea, and 
 mountains ? and the singing of birds in spring time 
 is surely a concert worth paying to hear. But this 
 beauty and variety of God's earth, because it is 
 always around us, we generally see unheedingly and 
 unthankfully. Is this right ? " 
 
 Sylvine crept close to him and laid her little hand 
 fondly on his own.
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR A JOURNEY. 41 
 
 ' : Oh ! Mr Roberts, if I were only as good as you," 
 
 she said softly. 
 
 He stroked her long curls kindly, and answered 
 " Dear, God will always give good thoughts to 
 
 those who ask Him." 
 
 "Do tell us a story, papa," said Jenny on the 
 evening before departure; "tell us a story about 
 Prince Llewellyn, or Snowdon, or Carnarvon Castle, 
 or any place we shall see." 
 
 -"Oh! do, Mr Roberts," cried Sylvine, eagerly; 
 " I know nothing about Wales at all." 
 
 " Tell us the story of Owen Glendower, and how 
 he hid himself among the mountains," added Jenny. 
 
 " Who was he ? " asked Sylvine. 
 
 "Don't you know about Owen Glendower?" said 
 little Jenny, enthusiastically ; " why, he was one of 
 the most celebrated men that ever lived in Wales, 
 and he made himself sovereign, and was so good 
 and brave, that the Welsh loved him a great deal 
 better than they did Edward the Second, and 
 followed him to battle, and 
 
 " Don't tell me the end of the story till I have 
 heard the beginning, for I hope he was not killed," 
 exclaimed Sylvine; "and now, dear Mr Roberts, 
 please tell us a nice long story, and let it be all about 
 Wales, and mountains, and adventures " 
 
 So Mr Roberts began his story.
 
 42 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE STORY OF OWEN GLENDOWER. 
 
 " \70\J must first know, that when the Saxons 
 made themselves masters of England, the 
 ancient Britons fled to Wales, Cornwall, and Brittany 
 in France, and this is the reason why, even at the 
 present time, the languages of these provinces are 
 something similar. Those who have seen the 
 mountains and inaccessible rocks of Wales, no longer 
 wonder how it was that the inhabitants were so long 
 enabled to defend themselves from their enemies, 
 and to maintain their independence. But they were 
 a very brave, hardy people, as the history of Carac- 
 tacus and Vortigern testify to us. The last Welsh 
 king was Llewellyn, who resisted for many years the 
 attacks of Edward the First, but was at last killed in 
 battle in 1288, and his brother David was taken 
 prisoner at the same period, and beheaded like a 
 common traitor. David being the last of that 
 ancient and noble race of kings, Edward took undis- 
 puted possession of the country, and promised the 
 Welsh a prince of their own nation, who could speak 
 no English. A few days after he presented to them 
 his little son Edward, who was born at Carnarvon 
 Castle, and ever after the eldest son of the English 
 sovereign has borne the title of Prince of Wales. 
 Edward the First, though a prince of great courage 
 and ability, was of a very cruel disposition, and no 
 act recorded of him is more cruel than the massacre
 
 THK STORY OF OWEN GLENDOWER. 43 
 
 of the Welsh bards. These unfortunate men, by 
 their noble songs of liberty and patriotism, inspired 
 their countrymen to continued efforts of inde- 
 pendence, and for this reason, as is supposed, they 
 were hunted down and slain without mercy. Many 
 stories of them are still cherished by the natives, as 
 well as their beautiful songs and melodies. And 
 fortunate are those who, like us, have had the 
 opportunity of hearing ' Poor Mary Anne,' of the 
 noble race of Shenkin, and the ' Rising of the Lark,' 
 played by Welsh harpers. 
 
 " You may well suppose that the Welsh soon tired 
 of the English yoke, and in the reign of Henry the 
 Fourth, Owen Glendower asserted his freedom, and 
 raised his standard, to which flocked high and low, 
 rich and poor. This great man and patriot, who 
 may well be classed with William Tell, with Robert 
 Bruce, and with William Wallace, was descended 
 from Prince Llewellyn, and is said to have inherited 
 a large estate, and to have taken the name of Glen- 
 dower from a lordship of his property called Glyn- 
 dowrdwy. Shakespeare who has drawn this chief- 
 tain in very glowing colours, makes mention of his 
 English education in that dialogue between Hotspur 
 and Glendower, where they quarrel concerning the 
 division of their land. 
 
 " * Glendowtr. I will not have it altered. 
 Hotspur. Will not you ? 
 Glendower. No, nor you shall not. 
 Hotspur. Who shall say me nay t 
 that will I?
 
 44 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Hotspur. Let me not understand you, then, 
 
 Speak it in Welsh. 
 Glendower. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you, 
 
 For I was trained up in the English court ; 
 
 Where, being young, I framed to the harp 
 
 Many an English ditty, lovely well.' 
 
 " Shakespeare also makes Glendower conscious of 
 his high mission : 
 
 " ' At my birth 
 
 The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes ; 
 The goats ran from the mountains, and the herbs, 
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
 These signs have marked me extraordinary ; 
 And all the courses of my life do show 
 I am not in the roll of common men. ' 
 
 " It was at Corwen that he resided, and the site of 
 his place is still marked by a clump of fir-trees. 
 Here he loved to entertain his friends, whilst his 
 poor retainers were not forgotten, and many a story 
 is yet told of his hospitality and kindness. Indeed, 
 nothing can equal the love and admiration with 
 which the inhabitants of this district regard his 
 memory, or the veneration they show to any relic or 
 place connected with him. In the ancient church 
 of Corwen they delight to point out the door by 
 which he entered his pew, and at Rug, two miles 
 from that town, his dagger, knife, and fork, are 
 exhibited in a sheath of richly ornamented silver. 
 As a husband and father Glendower is reputed to 
 have been most affectionate, and we may well 
 suppose with what anxiety his wife and children 
 looked forward to the success of their beloved hero.
 
 THE STORY OF OWEN GLENDOWER. 45 
 
 His daughter Gwenfrewi or Winefred was married to 
 the Earl of Mortimer, who of course joined his 
 father-in-law's cause, so that the poor lady had a 
 double cause of suspense. It seems that though 
 Mortimer could speak no Welsh and his wife no 
 English, they were a very loving couple, and 
 Shakespeare gives a pleasant picture of them. 
 Mortimer says ; 
 
 " ' I understand thy looks, that pretty Welsh, 
 
 Which thou pour'st down from those swelling heavens. ' 
 
 " And again 
 
 " ' For thy tongue 
 
 Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned, 
 Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 
 With ravishing division to her lute.' 
 
 " Lady Mortimer was very beautiful, and endeared 
 herself to every one by her charities and sweetness 
 of disposition. She was also very courageous, and 
 more than once followed her husband on his war- 
 faring excursions, when she, like Florence Nightin- 
 gale, dressed the wounds of the poor soldiers and 
 ministered to their wants. For twelve years Owen 
 Glendower sustained a variable war against the 
 English, and took a great many strong castles, 
 sometimes gaining great advances. During this 
 time he held his parliaments as if he were in reality 
 a sovereign prince, and an old building is shown at 
 Maehynlleth as the Senate House where he was 
 acknowledged and crowned as sovereign. It was at 
 this meeting be narrowly escaped being assassinated
 
 46 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 by the treacherous David Gann, who afterwards 
 attended Henry V. in the French wars, and proved 
 nimself a very faithful squire, so we will hope he 
 repented of his attempted wickedness. Indeed, 
 that Glen dower was acknowledged Prince of Wales 
 is testified by a treaty signed with Charles, King of 
 France, in which he begins thus in true regal style, 
 " Owen, by the grace of God, Prince of Wales." In 
 the year 1403, however, ambition led him on to 
 more daring and less honourable exploits. We can 
 forgive him for entertaining a desire to free his 
 beloved country from the English tyranny, and to 
 preserve its freedom, but we can only grieve to think 
 he so far forgot his better aspirations as to take the 
 part of a common rebel. He now joined in a 
 conspiracy with Earl Douglas, the Earl of Northum- 
 berland, and his son, Harry Hotspur, the object of 
 which was to dethrone Henry of England. Having 
 conferred together, they resolved upon collecting 
 their forces and striking a sudden blow. Hotspur 
 and Douglas marched at once to Shrewsbury, where 
 Northumberland was to follow with the main army, 
 and Glendower had promised to join them with 
 10,000 men. Before these movements could be 
 effected, however, the king had reached Shrewsbury 
 at the head of his forces, and they were obliged to 
 risk a battle. Shakespeare's splendid play of Henry 
 the Fourth, from which we have just quoted, will 
 give you a much better idea of this sharp contest 
 than we can, and of its two heroes, the king's son, 
 Madcap Harry as he was called, and the courageous
 
 THE STORY OF OWEN GLENDOWER. 47 
 
 fiery Harry Hotspur. The king commanded in 
 person, and displayed great skill and courage ; his 
 son, who on this day began his soldier's career, also 
 performed great feats of bravery, and though 
 wounded in the face by an arrow, would not quit 
 the field. On the other hand, Hotspur and Douglas 
 showed themselves no less valiant, and the victory 
 remained for several hours undecided. The two 
 armies were pretty equal in number, consisting of 
 about 14,000 men, and both sides showed themselves 
 equally determined to win or die. The king had 
 caused several of his followers to wear armour 
 similar to his own, and Douglas, who desired to 
 fight with him personally, was thus several times 
 deceived, and thought he had slain him. He was, 
 however, himself taken prisoner, and the gallant 
 Hotspur was slain. When they found their beloved 
 young commander was killed, gloom and de- 
 spondency filled the hearts of his soldiers, and 
 victory decided for Henry of England. 
 
 " Alas for Owen Glendower ! The fatal battle of 
 Shrewsbury blighted his high hopes and ambition, 
 for what was his little army against so powerful a 
 king? He was never fated to free his beloved 
 country ; he was never destined to wave the banner 
 of independence from his grand old mountains. 
 He was never destined to liberate his countrymen 
 from their oppressors, and to realize the prophecy 
 of his own bard, Gryffyd Lloyd : 
 
 " 'Strike then your harps, ye Cambrian bards ! 
 The song of triumph best rewards
 
 48 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 A hero's toils. Let Henry weep 
 His warriors wrapt in everlasting sleep ; 
 Success and victory are thine, 
 Owen Glendourdwy divine ! 
 
 " ' Dominion, honour, pleasure, praise, 
 Attend upon thy vigorous days, 
 And when thy evening star is set, 
 May grateful Cambria ne'er forget 
 Thy noontide blaze ; but on thy tomb 
 Never-fading laurels bloom ! ' 
 
 "But his prospects were very gloomy after that 
 ' sorry fight' So forlorn seemed his last hope that 
 even his soldiers forsook him in despair. One by 
 one his castles fell from his hands, his lands were 
 wrested away, and for twelve weary years he 
 wandered in various disguises among his native 
 mountains like a branded felon. Many interesting 
 stories are recorded of the faithfulness with which 
 the Welsh country people protected him; and 
 though, like Charles Stuart, a price was set on his 
 head, he was safe among the poorest of them. 
 There is a mountain at Beddgelert which is called 
 the Hill of Flight, from his having secreted himself 
 there in a recess when hunted down by the English ; 
 and many such hiding-places are pointed out to 
 tourists. On one occasion, when he was lodged in 
 the outhouse of a cowkeeper, his wife dressed 
 herself like a milkmaid, and went bare-legged, and 
 with her hair loosened and brushed awry, to see 
 him. So well did she personate a peasant girl, that 
 some of Henry's soldiers took milk out of her pail,
 
 THE STORY OF OWEN GLENDOWER. 49 
 
 and laughed and jested with her without discovering 
 that she was Glendower's wife. 
 
 "Another and still more beautiful story is told 
 by the inhabitants of Llansyllan, about a little 
 Welsh girl whose courage and good sense preserved 
 Glendower from falling into the hands of the 
 English. Her name was Jenny Fechan, or Vaughan, 
 and her parents, who dwelt on a dreary hill-top, 
 gained a scanty living by keeping a few goats. 
 These it was Jenny's business to tend, for by day 
 they fed on the hill-side, and at night were herded 
 under shelter. One day, as Jenny collected her 
 little flock and drove them into their rickety 
 wooden shed, what was her terror and surprise 
 to find there a man crouching on the straw. He 
 was dressed in a beggar's costume, but his figure 
 was noble and his face sorrowful and kind in 
 expression. 
 
 '"Little maid,' he said, 'be not afraid. I ar& 
 thy prince, Owen Glendower. Will you refuse 
 him this poor lodging?' 
 
 "At this, Jenny, who had heard many stories 
 of his brave attempts to free her native country 
 from tyranny, and of his unhappy defeat, burst 
 into tears, observing so great a man thus brought 
 low, and cried 'O great prince, I am sure my 
 father would gladly die for you, and whatever we 
 have is yours.' 
 
 "Then she entreated him to enter her father's 
 hut and partake of what poor hospitality they 
 could offer, for she was a simple little thing and 
 D
 
 50 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 could not at first understand why there would be 
 danger in it. It seemed to her impossible that 
 any one should dare lay hands on such a man. 
 When, however, she understood that it was of the 
 highest importance that his presence should be 
 kept a secret, she ran off towards the house and 
 brought to him a cake of oaten bread and a woollen 
 petticoat of her mother's to serve as coverlid. 
 Hardly had she run back again when a couple of 
 fierce-looking soldiers came to the foot of the hill, 
 and stood there undecided whether to take the 
 trouble of coming up. 
 
 " Then they rode on in pursuit, and Glendower 
 lay two nights concealed in the goat-shed, where 
 little Jenny took him victuals and drink and made 
 him a warm bed. On the third morning, she put 
 on him a suit of her father's clothes, and Jenny 
 took a little bundle in her hand and the two set 
 off for Pen-y-cwd, Glendower personating her uncle 
 taking charge of her to a place. You may imagine 
 the poor parents were very anxious, but the little 
 maiden bade them good-bye so smilingly, that it 
 cheered them somewhat and they felt sure no harm 
 would happen to the child. After a few days' hard 
 walking they reached Pe*n-y-cwd, where some of 
 Glendower's friends were ready to receive him, and 
 here the two parted. It is said that Glendower 
 wept as he embraced the child, and said 
 
 "'My child, such a heart as thine is worth a 
 crown of gold.' 
 
 "He gave her a silver coin as a remembrance
 
 THB SOLDIBRS IN SEARCH OF OWEN GLBNDOWKR- 
 
 50.
 
 PRINCE LLEWELLYN'S DOG. 53 
 
 and under the charge of an old man she trotted 
 back to Llansyllan. 
 
 "We can well fancy her, grown to be an old 
 woman, with children and grandchildren clinging to 
 her knee, Jenny Fechan would repeat this story of 
 her youth, and show her silver relic of the brave 
 Glendower. 
 
 " After wandering about and suffering many perils 
 and hardships this unfortunate man died in 1415, at 
 his daughter's house in Herefordshire, and it is con- 
 solatory to think that his last hours were comforted 
 by the love and presence of one he so tenderly 
 loved. Such is Owen Glendower's history. A 
 brave man, in a good though unsuccessful cause, he 
 mil always command respect from the admirers of 
 patriotism, and though no proud monuments are 
 erected to his memory, as have been to that of more 
 successful heroes, he will always live in the hearts of 
 the Welsh people, for whose liberty and happiness 
 he fought so well." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BEDDGELERT AND THE STORY OF PRINCE LLEWELLYN'S 
 HOUND. JENNY'S DIARY. 
 
 " A UGUST 2QTH. We rose early, for we had a 
 
 ^ great deal to do, and we were to start for 
 
 Beddgelert at eight o'clock. I could not eat a bit 
 
 of breakfast, though we had some fresh trout from
 
 54 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 the river, but Sylvine eat and drank just as though 
 it were an ordinary day and we were going nowhere 
 at all. At eight o'clock the carriage came, but we 
 were some minutes getting off, for Beatrice's 
 books, sketching umbrella, and our luggage (I mean 
 Sylvine's and mine), took up a great deal of room. 
 
 " It seemed so strange for me to leave papa and 
 Aunt Ana, and I felt almost inclined to cry, but 
 papa said, ' Why, Jenny, it's only for a week or two, 
 you know;' and that recalled me to my senses. 
 What a long time we could see them standing at 
 the door as the car crept slowly up the hill : then 
 all at once we turned a comer of the valley, and 
 went on the level road at a quick pace. We passed 
 a great many coaches quite laden with tourists, and 
 I thought how many times I had seen them and 
 wished to jump in and travel about like othe* 
 people. But now I was travelling about, and oh ! 
 I felt so happy and thankful. The morning was 
 lovely. I do believe that cows and birds and even 
 flowers rejoice in a beautiful summer's day, for cows 
 seem to low and saunter as if for pleasure; birds 
 sing twice as merrily, and flowers are twice as bright 
 as in wet weather. We saw an immense deal as we 
 passed along, and sometimes Sylvine asked per- 
 mission of Mademoiselle Allemeyer to have the car 
 stopped, and jumped out to gather fern-leaves and 
 wild flowers. But I sat still and kept my eyes open, 
 thinking of my diary. The mountains seemed to 
 grow higher and higher, the nearer we came to 
 Beddgelert, and though I don't like them better
 
 PRINCE LLEWELLYN'S DOG. 5i 
 
 than my mountains, they are certainly grander. 
 What a beautiful wild place Beddgelert is. Oh ! if 
 I could but draw ! but as I cannot, I must tell you 
 about it, papa, as well as I can. Fancy, then, a 
 green lovely valley, between noble mountains, a 
 bridge covered with moss, over the river, and trees 
 growing beside it : cars and donkeys, and carriages 
 constantly passing to and fro, a splendid hotel (oh ! 
 so much larger than the Squirrel Inn at Bretteyn), 
 where there is a Welsh harp always playing, and 
 a grand piano, and such lots of ladies and gentle- 
 men. Then there is the church which was once 
 a priory, and the grave of that dear old faithful 
 Gelert " 
 
 At this point of her narrative Sylvine burst in : 
 
 " Oh, Jenny, I quite forgot about the diary, but 1 
 have been in the garden with a little girl whose 
 name is Emily Hill; her papa knows mine, so of 
 course we shall be friends. I found her out quite 
 by chance. But do let me see what you have put 
 in your diary." 
 
 She looked over Jenny's shoulder and read the 
 last few lines. 
 
 "Gelert who was he?" she asked with surprise. 
 
 "He is buried there" answered Jenny, pointing 
 to a meadow, in the midst of which stood a group 
 of birch trees surrounded with palisades. 
 
 " But who is Gelert ? " 
 
 "I can't tell you in just one moment, but you 
 ought to know all about him. Will you have patience 
 to listen ? "
 
 $6 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " Let me call Emily Hill, then, to listen too," and 
 off Sylvine darted. 
 
 By-and-by she returned, holding by the hand a 
 little girl who greeted Jenny rather formally, and 
 then turned away from her as though she did not 
 consider her worth any further attention. 
 
 "Now, Jenny," said Sylvine, "let us go in the 
 garden, and you must tell us about Gelert. Do you 
 know who Gelert was, Emily ? " 
 
 "A dog," she said, rather disdainfully; "it is not 
 a pretty story." 
 
 " I think it very pretty," said Jenny, quietly. 
 
 " Well, do let me hear it, and then I can judge 
 too," exclaimed Sylvine, impatiently, and the three 
 girls walked into the shady garden, where they sat 
 down to listen to the story of 
 
 PRINCE LLEWELLYN'S DOG. 
 
 " A great many years ago there was a Welsh prince 
 whose name was Llewellyn the Great. He had a 
 hunting seat here, for in those days Wales was in- 
 fested with wolves, and they used to have large and 
 very powerful dogs called wolf-hounds to hunt with. 
 Prince Llewellyn had a great many, but one amongst 
 them was his favourite, and it was called Gelert. It 
 was the most faithful, affectionate creature in the 
 world, always following his master, or his master's 
 children, from place to place, and every night used 
 to sleep at the door of his room. One day there 
 was a grand hunt, and the barons and princes from 
 far and neai were invited to join in the sport ; of
 
 PRINCE LLEWELLYN'S DOG. 57 
 
 course a great feast was given at the Prince's hunt- 
 ing-seat, and there were numbers of strange cooks in 
 the kitchen to assist his men in preparing it. Now 
 Prince Llewellyn had a little child yet in its cradle, 
 a fair, tender, little baby, too young to know any- 
 thing of hunts or feasts, and who was left in its 
 nursery to the care of a gossiping, worthless maid. 
 This maid had strict injunctions not to leave the 
 cradle for one moment; but no sooner was her 
 master gone to the hunt, and her mistress ridden out 
 with her ladies to view the sport from a distance, 
 than she stole into the kitchen to chatter with the 
 strange cooks. Meantime the Prince had missed 
 his faithful dog Gelert from his side, and did not 
 seem to enjoy the hunt so much that day. Some- 
 how he could not but think that something had gone 
 wrong with his favourite, and you may fancy how 
 glad he was to see him run forward from the house 
 at the sound of his horse's hoofs. But his jaws were 
 covered with blood, as he came joyfully up to his 
 master, licking his feet and hands. ' What is this ? ' 
 cried Llewellyn, calling his servants from high and 
 low, and then for he thought of his infant he 
 rushed to its room, Gelert following with joyful 
 tokens of affection. What were his feelings on see- 
 ing the cradle overturned, the coverlid and floor all 
 besmeared with blood. ' Villanous beast,' he cried 
 in mad rage and grief, 'is this thy return for thy 
 master's kindness ? ' and with his sword he slew his 
 old dog Gelert, who fawned on him even in dying. 
 But just as he sheathed that dreadful sword, he heard
 
 58 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 a child's cry, and lifting up the cradle beheld his 
 infant alive and unhurt : then for the truth flashed 
 on him he searched the room, and there under the 
 tapestry lay the body of a dead wolf. Poor, poor 
 Gelert ! he had saved his master's child, and had 
 been killed as its murderer. It is said that Prince 
 Llewellyn, though a giant of size and strength, and 
 the bravest man of his times, wept very sore for th 
 loss of his favourite, and was a graver man for years 
 after. And he buried it under those birch-trees 
 yonder, where its tomb is still remaining, and the 
 place was ever afterwards called Bedd-gelert, or the 
 Gelerfs grave" 
 
 A tear stood in Jenny's eye as she finished her 
 story, and Sylvine had become deeply interested. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SYL VINE'S DIARY. 
 
 . I am quite ashamed of not having written 
 ^ a line yet, for Jenny has already filled two pages 
 of her diary. Well, to begin : Susette, our maid, did 
 not call me till eight, or I should have had a walk in 
 the garden before breakfast ; but as soon as that was 
 over, we all dressed to set out for Pont Aberglaslyn. 
 On our way, we met an old Welshwoman, riding on 
 a horse, and carrying a bag of corn before her ; she 
 looked so odd in a man's black hat and white hand- 
 kerchief tied round her face ; but I am getting quite 
 used to this droll costume now, for all the poor women
 
 SYLVINE'S DIARY. 59 
 
 wear black hats or wide-awakes, and striped coloured 
 skirts, with wooden shoes, and grey stockings. And 
 oh ! how quickly they knit stockings as they walk 
 along ; they never look at their work, but walk on, 
 perhaps chatting to some one, perhaps looking about, 
 but knitting all the while. The cottages here are 
 not nearly so pretty and comfortable as those I 
 have seen in England, but are very small, with no 
 nice gardens. Jenny knows so many things that I 
 do not. She can tell the names and kinds of ferns 
 and wild-flowers that we see, and all the anecdotes 
 of the places we pass through, and the heights of 
 the mountains, and a great deal more. Indeed, 
 I don't know what Beatrice would do without her, 
 for she is always asking her about this thing or that 
 I wish Beatrice would let me look in her diary, for 
 I am sure it is very cleverly written. Susette does 
 not like Wales at all. ' Oh, mademoiselle,' she 
 said, dolefully, ' I do wish we were going back to 
 London. There is something to see there.' 'But 
 there is plenty to see here, Susette,' I said. ' Indeed, 
 mademoiselle, I don't see much beauty in this wild 
 dreary country, with everybody near you speaking 
 that odious Welsh patois] she answered. ' Now, 
 in London there are sights really worth seeing, the 
 lovely parks and splendid carriages, and the shops 
 in Regent Street.' ' You should study the beauties 
 of Nature, Susette,' I put in, smiling, at which she 
 shook her head and went away. I do believe I 
 begin to know what is meant by the beauties of 
 Nature, now, and this is all owing to Mr Roberts
 
 60 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 and Jenny my dear Jenny Jones, as I call her 
 sometimes. At one time I used to like toys and 
 pantomines and sights a good deal better. But 
 now, whenever I take a walk, I look about me, with 
 both eyes wide open, and say to myself, 'Now, 
 Sylvine, look at the grass look at the rainbow 
 look at those pretty ferns look at those splendid 
 mountains, and think what a beautiful world you 
 live in ! ' This is just Jenny's way of feeling about 
 things, and I hope one day to be like her she is 
 so good, and merry, and obliging but I do not 
 think I should like to be without pocket-money 
 as she is, or to wear such shabby dresses. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 BEATRICE'S DIARY. THE ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 
 
 "OEPT. IST. Those children, Sylvine and 
 **' Jenny, work so hard at their diaries that I 
 must take care or I shall be quite behind them. 
 I don't think I ever spent three happier days than 
 these at Beddgelert ; the scenery is so magnificent 
 and everything so new to me. I almost envy little 
 Jenny Roberts her mountain home; for it seems 
 to me that those who live in the country, especially 
 in so beautiful a country as this, are more apt to 
 love God, for the blue sky, and grey rock, and 
 mountain stream, and dashing cascade must, I 
 think, bring thoughts of Him, who in His goodness 
 and power created all
 
 BEATRICE'S DIARY. THB ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 61 
 
 " Yesterday was very fine, and we made the most 
 of it At six o'clock, Sylvine rushed into my room 
 half-dressed, and crying out ' Snowdon ! Snowdon !' 
 and directly after Mademoiselle came in and told 
 me to dress, for the morning promised to be fair, 
 and she intended us to ascend Snowdon. We 
 started early, on ponies, and Sylvine's new friend 
 went with us, for the two children had made up 
 their quarrel, and Mrs Hill asked good-natured 
 Mademoiselle to take charge of her. I was quite 
 sorry she consented, for Emily is a pert, disagree- 
 able child, and by no means a nice companion 
 for Sylvine. 
 
 " I rode a great part of the way by Jenny's side, 
 for I saw that Emily had managed to get Sylvine all 
 to herself, and I did not wish the little thing to feel 
 lonely. Oh ! Sylvine, Sylvine, why will you be so 
 silly and always make friendships with those you 
 know nothing about" 
 
 " It is five miles from Beddgelert to the summit of 
 Snowdon, and excepting a few little children and 
 some tourists, we met no one. These children were 
 wild little creatures, who lived in the cottages above 
 the road-side, and they followed us for a quarter of 
 a mile, holding in their hands trays of crystals, and 
 bits of copper ore, crying ' a penny-lot !' which, I 
 suppose, was all the English they could speak. 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer, in her usual good-natured 
 way, gave them some pence ; but at the same time 
 said she thought it a pity to encourage such trouble- 
 some little things. The solitariness of the road
 
 62 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 almost makes one feel sad However, Jenny and I 
 chatted gaily as we rode along, and I found her 
 very intelligent and companionable. Of course, she 
 has some odd countrified notions ; but this is only 
 to be expected, brought up as she has been, without 
 any society whatever. By-and-by, we came in sight 
 of Snowdon. How grand and immense it looked ! 
 Its vastness and rugged beauty humbled me. I felt 
 so small and insignificant beneath it; and the 
 thought came to my mind, how glorious God must 
 be, when so glorious are His creations. Jenny's face 
 glowed with rapture. 
 
 " ' Oh, Beatrice ! ' she said, in her curious Welsh 
 accent, 'I don't wonder at Prince Llewellyn and 
 Owen Glendower, and William Tell being so brave .' 
 I think that looking on such magnificent mountains 
 makes one feel how powerful God is who takes care 
 of us, and who is always on our side when we are 
 in the right.' 
 
 " ' And you think that Owen Glendower was in 
 the right, you little patriot ? ' I said, laughingly. 
 
 " ' Every one ought to be free,' she answered, 
 demurely, ' and if I had lived then, I should have 
 helped him all I could.' 
 
 " ' And embroidered a scarf for your knight to 
 wear on the field of battle?' I asked; at which 
 she was silent, thinking I was laughing at her. But 
 I had no intention of doing so, and I admire her 
 favourite hero Glendower very much ; he would have 
 made as good a king as Henry the Fourth, I have 
 no doubt.
 
 BEATRICE'S DIARY. THE ASCENT OF SNOWDON. 63 
 
 " We now began to ascend. Snowdon does not 
 appear so high as it really is, on account of its great 
 breadth, and the height of the narrow rock near it 
 But as Justice Talfourd says in his ' Vacation 
 Rambles,' which we have just read, 'you might 
 fancy it crouched to conceal its height.' What a 
 good idea ! The sunlight played on its huge 
 shoulder as we ascended, and we could see the 
 clefts and chasms below lying in deep shadow, with 
 here and there gleams of coppery red. Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer and I have been studying the geology of 
 Snowdon, which made our ascent doubly pleasant 
 I think to enjoy travelling thoroughly, we always 
 want to know a little of geology, botany, history, etc. 
 It makes everything a great deal more interesting, 
 and I only wish I had brought more books with me. 
 We soon came to the side of a deep hollow, and 
 here the guide stopped us, that we might look down. 
 It was a grand, but awful sight ; the steep precipice, 
 the shining black pool below, and the ridge between 
 our horses' feet so narrow 1 
 
 "'Hurrah! Hurrah!' 
 
 " We were at last on the top of Snowdon. 
 
 "A foreign-looking gentleman who had pre- 
 ceded us, had taken off his hat, and waved it 
 delightedly, with many cheers. And now we could 
 see the grand prospect round us. The sky was 
 clear, and lighted up a glorious panorama of 
 mountain, sea and valley. Tears came into my 
 eyes at a sight so lovely and so splendid. On one 
 side lay Anglesey, with the green sea gleaming
 
 64 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 beyond ; on the opposite, a succession of mountain 
 scenery belted by the sea; also, before me, the 
 gigantic Capel Curig mountain, Moel Siabod, and 
 the Pass below; whilst behind, the peaks of 
 Merionethshire were outlined, blue and shadowy, in 
 the distance. 
 
 "After our first delight was over, we sat down 
 and ate a hearty lunch. The foreign gentleman 
 was merriest of all, and was so witty and mirthful 
 that he kept every one laughing. The most comical 
 thing was that he and Mademoiselle Allemeyer 
 turned out to be old friends, and there was such a 
 shaking of hands, and asking of questions ! It 
 seems that he is a teacher of languages in a school 
 in Devonshire, and taking a holiday-tour in company 
 vith a French gentleman, named Monsieur Emile. 
 The German gentleman's name is Miiller. Whilst 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer and I were talking to the 
 Herr Miiller, I was provoked to see how foolishly 
 Sylvine was behaving, sitting with her arm round 
 Emily's waist, and chatting to her as fast as possible ; 
 whilst she had not a word or look for Jenny, whom 
 a few days ago she seemed so fond of. I dare say, 
 before long, it will be all Jenny again, and Emily 
 neglected. Sylvine is loveable, and a good child in 
 many things; but she is sadly fickle, and if she 
 grows up so, who will care for her friendship ? 
 
 " We reached Beddgelert about five o'clock, after 
 spending one of the most delightful days I ever 
 remember to have had. I have been writing this 
 before breakfast, having risen early on purpose ; but,
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 65 
 
 Jenny tells me Mademoiselle is down, so I must 
 leave off. 
 
 "Same day, after breakfast. I just add a few 
 facts about Snowdon, which Herr Miiller told me. 
 Snowdon is an ancient Saxon name, meaning a 
 snowy height ; its British name, Craig Eryri, means 
 the same thing, and its highest point is called 
 Ywyddfa, or the conspicuous. Its height is 3571 
 feet I have read that the highest part of Snowdon 
 is under snow the whole year. Herr Miiller, how- 
 ever, told me this is a mistake, and that it is as much 
 as 800 feet below the point of continuous snows. 
 Strange to say, it was at one time a ' royal forest,' 
 and abounded with deer ; but the last was killed in 
 the year 1600; I forget the exact date, but in the 
 seventeenth century. Its geology and botany are 
 very interesting." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE FAIRY TALE OF GIANT SNOW-STORM AND 
 PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 
 
 JENNY'S Snowdon expedition was not so entirely 
 happy as Beatrice's. Sylvine's neglect grieved her 
 bitterly. Emily Hill's cold impertinence she could 
 bear with patience, for she did not love her ; but for 
 Sylvine she had conceived a sincere and ardent 
 affection. It was the first friendship she had made, 
 and though she did not rush into friendships as 
 Sylvine did, when she once formed them they were 
 E
 
 66 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 lasting. It was therefore a sad trial to find that she 
 was neglected for a comparative stranger, and the 
 thought would come, " Is Sylvine so good and so 
 true as I imagined her to be ? does she really love 
 me? or am I wrong in being jealous am I unjust 
 to her ? " Poor little Jenny's heart was very heavy 
 as she rode slowly down the mountain ; just behind 
 she could hear Sylvine and Emily talking merrily and 
 confidentially of London, and school, and people, 
 of all of which she knew nothing. Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer, Beatrice and Herr Miiller, were carrying 
 on an interesting conversation about the ancient 
 history of Wales, which at any other time she would 
 have listened to, with eagerness, but now, her heart 
 was too full of other things, and she hardly heard 
 their words. Tears stole down her cheeks. 
 
 By-and-by a pleasant voice interrupted her sad 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Come, young lady, as your Rosinante won't 
 talk to you I will ; you shall be witty and I will be 
 merry, so it shall be hard if we cannot entertain 
 each other." 
 
 It was Herr Miiller, Mademoiselle Allemeyer's 
 German friend, and the sound of his good-natured 
 voice, and the sight of his kindly smile, won Jenny's 
 confidence at once. She brushed away her tears 
 and said with a pretty, modest blush 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I can't be witty." 
 
 " Then you must do the merriment and I'll do 
 the wit," answered Herr Miiller smiling, "so you 
 must laugh a good deal at what I say, and ther I
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 67 
 
 shall feel that I am making myself agreeable. Well, 
 and what do you think of Snowdon, and how would 
 you like to stand perched on the top of it on a cold 
 winter's night with all the fairies and genii dancing 
 minuets round you?" 
 
 Jenny laughed gaily. 
 
 "But there are no fairies or genii now, and I 
 never heard of any who lived on Snowdon." 
 
 " No ? Oh ! you may be sure there were num- 
 bers, only perhaps their lives have not been written. 
 There are as many thousands of wonderful people, 
 whom history has said nothing about, as there are 
 heroes and heroines at whose names everybody 
 blows a trumpet But should you like to hear a 
 real Snowdon fairy-tale, a tale that shall be all about 
 Snowdon, beginning middle end?" 
 
 " Oh ! if you would but tell me a fairy-tale," said 
 Jenny delightedly. " Papa tells me stories, but they 
 are generally about real men and women, and I do 
 so like a story about unreal people, sometimes." 
 
 " Then you shall have unrealities to your heart's 
 content," replied Herr Miiller, and after walking 
 silently beside her pony for a few minutes, rubbing 
 his hands together as if they were two flint-stones 
 and he wanted to strike a light, he began 
 
 THE STORY OF GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS 
 LADY-FERN. 
 
 " Many years ago, before you and I were born, or 
 churches were built, and when giants and genii and 
 fairies played pretty pranks upon everybody who
 
 68 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 hadn't an eye in the back of his head, there lived in 
 Wales a mighty giant named Snow-storm. I really 
 don't think anybody ever knew his exact height, but 
 this I can certify, that % he could stride about the 
 world so quickly that one day he would lay down to 
 sleep on the plains of Norway, and the next you 
 would see him puffing and ^blowing as he toiled over 
 the Welsh hills. Well, there lived at this time a 
 king of Carnarvon who had a lovely daughter called 
 Lady-fern. She was so beautiful that the sun came 
 down to kiss her whenever she walked on the hill- 
 side ; and the number of young princes who had died 
 for love of her exceeded the leaves of the largest birch 
 tree in the kingdom. Indeed, so troublesome were 
 these poor suitors of Lady-fern that her father's hail 
 had grown grey on account of the worry, though he 
 was quite a young man. But I am sure if I had lived in 
 those days I should have troubled the king as much as 
 any of them, for never was a princess half so blue-eyed, 
 and so golden-haired, and so rosy-cheeked as Lady- 
 fern, and though she was not so meek and tractable 
 as she ought to have been, for she was sadly spoilt 
 by all this flattery, she had very winning ways and 
 found her way to a heart as deep as the Red Sea. 
 So spoilt and unreasonable was she that she con- 
 sidered nobody half good enough for her, and when 
 any beautiful young Prince rode up to her father's 
 castle clad in velvet and gold and poured a bushel 
 of silver money in her lap and said ' You shall ride 
 in a turquoise carriage, drawn by milk-white horses, 
 and you shall have a different dress for every day in
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN 69 
 
 the year, and a bushel of money on our wedding- 
 day and a great deal more, ten times sweeter than 
 this, her answer was always the same 'No,' and 
 the poor prince would ride away quite crest-fallen 
 and sorrowful, but she would turn to her maids and 
 laugh as gaily as if nothing had happened. At first 
 there were great quarrellings and fightings amongst 
 all these rejected lovers, each fancying the others 
 his rivals, but after a little time, when they found 
 that it was no use whatever, and that Lady-fern 
 would have nothing to say to any one of them, they 
 altered their tone. 
 
 " ' Let us join together and make war on the king, 
 her father,' said they ; ' if she will say No to please 
 herself, let us make her say Yes to please us. We 
 mil arm ourselves in steel from head to foot, and 
 each take a sword a yard long, and besiege the king 
 in his palace. There he will be compelled to give 
 her up, and we will draw lots to see who shall marry 
 her, and the matter will be ended for ever and ever.' 
 
 "They concocted this plan one summer evening 
 in a lonely glen, for they wished of course to keep it 
 a dead secret, lest the king should get scent of it 
 and make preparations. 
 
 " But the next morning when Lady-fern was 
 getting her breakfast a little robin came chirping 
 and pecking at her window. 
 
 "'Oh! dear little red-breast,' said Lady-fern, 
 'here is some bread for you, and if you come to- 
 morrow you shall have some more.' 
 
 " But the robin looked up and looked down with
 
 70 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 its bright little cunning eyes, and when it saw that 
 nobody was within hearing, perched itself on her 
 shoulder, and whispered the whole plot into her 
 pretty pink ear. 
 
 " Then when all was told, it picked a few crumbs, 
 for it was a long journey from the glen, and, chirping, 
 'I'll come again when I hear mo're,' flew straight away. 
 
 "So, Princess Lady-fern went to her father, and 
 repeated the story. ' And we'll get a splendid army 
 together, and teach the princes whether I am to say 
 yes when they please,' she said scornfully, and threw 
 back her head till her golden hair trailed on the 
 ground. 
 
 "'Alas!' said her father, 'where is the army to 
 come from ? There is not a prince in my kingdom, 
 or within the three kingdoms round, who is not my 
 enemy for love of you, and what will my servants 
 be against so many?' 
 
 "'Arm them with golden shields and long 
 swords,' said haughty Lady-fern, ' and there is not 
 one of them that won't die for their mistress." 
 
 " ' But we haven't any shields or swords, for my 
 reign has been a reign of peace,' said the king, and 
 fell to weeping bitterly. 
 
 " ' I won't weep till I can find nothing better to 
 do,' cried the Princess, and swept out of the room. 
 She went straight up into an old tower at the top of 
 the palace, where lay piles of old furniture, and 
 other things, covered with dust and cobwebs. 
 Lady-fern pulled down the dirty piles, one by one, 
 with her dainty little white hands, till at last she
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 71 
 
 came to something hard and heavy. Rubbing off 
 the cobwebs with her green velvet dress (so im- 
 patient was she) she saw it was a suit of armour, 
 apparently gold ; but so soiled and besmeared, that 
 the nature CM it remained a matter of doubt Then 
 she rubbed and rubbed away till it grew bright as 
 the setting sun ; and when she saw what a splendid 
 suit of armour it was, *11 of pure gold, and delicately 
 hinged, her heart jumped for joy. And she robed 
 herself in her richest dress, which was of pale green, 
 all glittering with diamonds and emeralds, and put 
 on silver shoes, and combed her hair with a golden 
 comb, till it hung round her shoulders and down to 
 her waist, in curls as round as guineas. When she 
 was arrayed thus, she ordered her servants to fetch 
 the suit of armour from the tower, and carry it to 
 the highest hill near; and it being placed there, 
 making a large heap (for it was so big and heavy) 
 she seated herself on the top. 
 
 " ' Here I will wait,' she said, ' till a champion 
 comes to deliver me from the princes.' 
 
 " So the sun, who had left his ruby palace 
 betimes, and was now travelling southward, stopped 
 on his way to kiss her as she sat there like a pale 
 rose amid green leaves in a golden vase. 
 
 " ' Oh ! Sun !' cried Lady-fern, ' be my champion, 
 and kill the princes.' 
 
 " ' Fair maiden, I cannot,' replied the Sun, 'for I 
 am bound to my kingdom in the West ; and if I 
 don't get there before twilight, my spouse, the Moon, 
 will come to seek me, ready to die of jealousy.'
 
 72 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 So the sun passed on. 
 
 By-and-by, a knight rode by, whose hair was iron 
 grey, and whose frame was broad and portly. 
 Twenty men followed him, all armed from head to 
 foot 
 
 " ' Oh ! gentle knight, put on this armour, and be 
 my champion,' said Lady-fern. 
 
 "And the knight bade his men halt at the sound 
 of so sweet a voice ; but when he saw that it was 
 Lady-fern who spoke, he shook his head, and said, 
 ' Nay, but my six brothers all died for love of you, 
 and when I have forgotten them, I will be your 
 champion.' So he passed on. 
 
 " Then a merchant came along, leading a donkey 
 laden with silks and spices and jewels ; and he was 
 making the best of his way to the palace, expecting, 
 as usual, to strike some good bargains. Surely I 
 may rely on him, thought Lady-fern, for I am the 
 best customer he ever had ; so she raised her voice, 
 and said, 
 
 " ' Oh ! merchant, put on this armour, and defend 
 me from the princes, and I will reward you with half 
 my jewels and gold.' 
 
 " But when the merchant looked up, and saw the 
 princess sitting there alone, and in trouble, he, after 
 the fashion of worldly people, made a great bow, but 
 offered no help. 
 
 " ' Beautiful Princess,' he said, ' only kings' sons 
 are fit to fight for kings' daughters ; and if I so far 
 mistook my place, all the princes in the kingdom 
 would cry shame, and I should sell no more wares.'
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 73 
 
 "So the merchant passed on. 
 
 " Then a beggar chanced to come that way one, 
 whom Lady-fern had befriended many and many a 
 time ; but now she begged instead, and clasping her 
 little white hands, said 
 
 " ' Oh, beggar, you are strong and bold of heart ; 
 put on this armour and fight the princes, or I shall 
 be carried away into a far country, and never be 
 able to give you any more cold pasties.' 
 
 " But the beggar, who was both crafty and a 
 coward, thought he should be on the safest side if 
 he kept friends with the princes ; so he suddenly 
 feigned a great lameness, and said 
 
 " ' Most beautiful mistress and benefactor, I have 
 got the rheumatism from sleeping so many nights 
 out of doors, and every bone in my body shakes like 
 a leaf.' 
 
 " So the beggar passed on. And now the day was 
 waning, and a great sadness fell over Lady-fern's 
 heart. 
 
 " ' If I could only fight myself,' she thought, ' I 
 would not humble myself by begging of these heart- 
 less wretches.' It made her sadder still to see a last 
 glimpse of the sun's crimson robe as he turned round 
 the corner, and to think that he too, her old friend, 
 had forsaken her. All at once she heard a twitter 
 close behind, and ? looking up, beheld her little 
 faithful robin. 
 
 " ' The princes are on their way,' whispered he in 
 her ear, ' and are marching at a great pace. I have 
 flown so fast, that I have only breath left to tell you
 
 74 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 this. Then the robin fell down as if dead, and she, 
 weeping, to lose her only friend, picked it up 
 tenderly, and placed it in her bosom. 
 
 " By-and-by she saw a dark shadow moving over 
 the plains far away, and the shadow grew darker and 
 darker, till she saw that it was an army. At that 
 sight, Lady-fern wept more bitterly still, and held her 
 white hands towards the sea, crying ' Oh ! Sea, foam 
 and surge, and swell, and drive a large ship ashore, 
 that I may jump in and sail far, far away to a land 
 where no princes make love.' 
 
 " But the sea remained as calm as a babe asleep, 
 and the ships sailed on, and the princes came nearer 
 and nearer so near that she could see their armour 
 shine in the glooming. 
 
 " Soon a Star popped out of its soft bed of clouds, 
 and twinkled its bright eyes as it danced, away in 
 the sky. 
 
 " ' Oh ! Star,' cried Lady-fern in great distress, 
 'come down in your golden chariot, and take me 
 away with you.' 
 
 "But the Star said, 'If I once come down, 1 
 should never be able to climb so high again, so I 
 cannot help you, pretty princess.' And the star 
 winked and danced as gaily as ever, and the princes 
 came nearer and nearer. 
 
 " Then Lady-fern uttered a great shriek of despair, 
 and fell to the ground nigh unto fainting ; but all at 
 once she felt her robe stirred by a mighty wind that 
 came from the north, and looking round, beheld a 
 giant coming towards her, making vast strides, and
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 75 
 
 puffing and blowing as he did so. At so awful a 
 sight, and with the coldness of his breath, Lady-fern 
 almost froze with terror ; but she took courage, and 
 holding up her little hands, cried pitifully 
 
 " ' Good giant, I am weak, and you are strong 
 oh save me from my enemies the princes.' 
 
 " And giant Snow-storm, for he it was, thought he 
 had never seen a maiden half so beautiful as Lady- 
 fern, with her pink cheeks, and torquoise eyes, and 
 golden hair ; and though he was tired and well nigh 
 out of breath, for he had travelled that very day from 
 the Polar Regions, he knelt down at her feet and 
 whispered (even his whisper was like distant 
 thunder) 
 
 " ' Fear not, most beauteous maiden. I am a 
 match for many princes, and even if I were a dwarf 
 and they were giants, yet would I gladly die for so 
 sweet a lady.' 
 
 "'What shall we do for armour? This that I 
 have is only fit for a common-sized man, and the 
 princes are armed from head to foot.' 
 
 "But, lo! when Giant Snow-storm put his little 
 finger into the mailed sleeve, it stretched, and 
 stretched, till it covered his whole arm, and so did 
 the corslet, and helmet, and shield ; and by the time 
 the princes had arrived at the foot of the hill, where 
 they remained in bewilderment, he was ready to 
 meet them. 
 
 " Then he rushed forth, and what with killing some 
 and frightening a good many, he won a complete 
 victory; and the whole army of suitors was scattered
 
 76 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 like leaves in Autumn. When this mighty work was 
 done, he calmed his wrath and returned to the hill 
 where Lady-fern still sat, and she (who looked like a 
 snow-drop beside an Alpine fir, he being so large and 
 rough, she so small and delicate) asked him what 
 reward he wanted. 'Only one thing I ask,' said the 
 giant, ' and that is, that you will marry me.' 
 
 But Lady-fern, now that the danger was over, burst 
 out into her old saucy laugh, and cried 
 
 " 'That would never do; I am so small and you so 
 large that the whole world would die of laughing. 
 An elephant might as well marry a mouse. Ask 
 anything else of me. and you shall have it.' 
 
 " * I will have this reward or none,' said giant 
 Snow-storm. But so desperately in love was he, 
 that before he had got ten paces his heart broke with 
 a mighty bang, and he fell down dead, and the noise 
 of his fall was heard at the antipodes. At that mo- 
 ment the little robin jumped out of Lady-fern's 
 bosom and flew out of sight. 
 
 " Then when Lady-fern saw that the good giant 
 was dead, and that even the robin forsook her, a 
 great mist passed over her eyes, which left them so 
 clear that she could see to the bottom of her own 
 heart. And oh ! when she saw how foolish and vain 
 she had been, how cruelly she had provoked her 
 lovers, and how ungrateful she had showed herself to 
 her generous champion, she could not sufficiently 
 repent, and wept till her tears ran down the hill side. 
 And she resolved to make the best amends she could 
 to giant Snow-storm, who had fought and died for 
 her, and to bury him herself. But so heavy and big
 
 GIANT SNOW-STORM AND PRINCESS LADY-FERN. 77 
 
 was he, that she could get no one for love or money 
 to dig a grave, and was obliged to be content with 
 covering him up as he lay there. So day after day, 
 night after night, did she dig earth with her dainty 
 little fingers, not a soul helping her save her faithful 
 robin, who had now come back ; and the two worked 
 on, till after many years giant Snow-storm was hidden 
 by the mould, and though here and there the gold of 
 his armour gleams through the thin places now, when 
 they gave up their task all was covered smoothly. 
 Then many kings' sons came to woo her as before, 
 but she refused them all meekly and softly, and went 
 every day to weep at the foot of the giant's tomb, 
 till at last her tears formed a lake there. And one 
 day, being weary of weeping, and weary of her 
 suitors' importunities, she threw herself into the lake 
 of tears, crying ' The dead giant is dearer to me 
 than all the living princes, and I will lie at his feet 
 for evermore.' 
 
 "And many and many a day, the little robin 
 chirped sadly around Lady-fern's lake, and sowed 
 seeds of pretty mosses over the grave of giant Snow- 
 storm, and hundreds and thousands of people walk 
 over his dead body, but nobody knows how he came 
 there except you and I." 
 
 " Oh ! what a lovely, splendid story," cried Jenny 
 with enthusiasm, and she turned her pony's head, 
 so that she could see the grey mountain. " I shall 
 never see Snowdon again without thinking of the 
 giant, and the princess, and the little robin. And 
 look, Mr Miiller, you can see his great shoulders, 
 and huge knees as he lies in a bent posture ; and
 
 78 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 we saw the lake at its feet this morning and oh ! it 
 seems all so true to me." 
 
 " So it does to me, and only see, his very armour 
 shows coppery yellow here and there," said Herr 
 Miiller. 
 
 And now they had arrived at the hotel, and the 
 Herr Miiller look his leave, for he was going the 
 next morning to Capel Curig. You may be sure 
 Jenny felt very sorry at having to say good-bye to 
 him so soon. After all I doubt whether Sylvine 
 or Emily had enjoyed their ride home so well as 
 she had done ; and when they knew the delightful 
 story they had missed, they were ready to cry with 
 vexation. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED ON A WET DAY. 
 
 THE next day was rainy, and there was no possi- 
 bility of going out Directly after breakfast Bea- 
 trice brought out her painting, Mademoiselle Alle- 
 meyer fetched a book and began reading to her, 
 and Jenny sat close by, interested both in the pic- 
 ture and the book. Sylvine and Emily flitted to 
 and fro in a state of restless discontent, grumbling 
 at the weather, grumbling at the dryness of Made- 
 moiselle's book; grumbling because they had no- 
 thing to do. 
 
 "Oh! if the sun would but come out!" cried 
 Sylvine, dolefully; "how shall we pass the time 
 away?"
 
 WHAT HAPPENED ON A WET DAY. 79 
 
 " You silly child," answered Beatrice, " time flies 
 fast enough without your wishing it to go. If you 
 would only follow my advice, I can tell you of many 
 things which you might do, and which would make 
 time pass quickly." 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 " Promise me that you will do one of them," said 
 Beatrice, who was rather fond of teasing. 
 
 " Oh, no, it might be something I don't like," and 
 Sylvine turned to Jenny. 
 
 " Do come and act charades with Emily and me," 
 she said in a coaxing voice. 
 
 Jenny jumped up readily, though she would far 
 sooner have staid to hear the book. 
 
 "I don't wish to act charades," said Emily, un- 
 graciously; and at this speech Jenny sat down 
 again, feeling glad to be released, though somewhat 
 vexed at the rudeness with which her offer had 
 been rejected. Beatrice remarked both the speech 
 and the look, and said sharply 
 
 "Really, Sylvine and Emily, you are both very 
 ungrateful to Jenny. Yesterday you utterly ne- 
 glected her, and to-day, in spite of it, she is willing 
 to oblige you, and yet you never offer her a thank." 
 
 Sylvine blushed and said 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Jenny, dear." 
 
 Emily said nothing, but looked very much out of 
 temper, and after that she never liked Beatrice; 
 meantime Sylvine, who now felt ashamed of her late 
 neglect of Jenny, had seated herself by her side, 
 and resolved to interest herself in the book. Emily,
 
 8o HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 however, soon enticed her away under pretext of 
 having something to show her in her bed-room, and 
 the reading went on uninterruptedly. 
 
 JENNY'S DIARY. 
 
 " SEPTEMBER 3rd. Oh ! I am so unhappy ; if I 
 could only get back to father I don't think I would 
 ever leave him again. I little thought when I left 
 home a few days ago that I should so soon want to get 
 back again. Dear, dear Nant Llysyn, I have never 
 been miserable there. But I will try to write my 
 diary, though I have cried till my head aches. 
 
 " This morning Beatrice finished her lovely pic- 
 ture of the Pass, and when she went up to dress for 
 dinner left it on the table, still wet with the last 
 colours. It was so pretty that after she had gone I 
 looked at it again, but only for a minute, and then 
 ran up -stairs to do my hair. I met Sylvine and 
 Emily in the hall, and Sylvine came with me to our 
 room (we sleep together), and rung for Susette to 
 curl her hair. I don't know where Emily went to, 
 for she was so cross at what Beatrice had said to 
 her that she did not speak a word to me. We were 
 about a quarter of an hour up-stairs, and then 
 Mademoiselle came to tell us dinner was ready. 
 When we opened the parlour door we saw Beatrice 
 standing by the window looking as if something 
 dreadful had happened, and so there had, for her 
 painting table was knocked down, and a glass of
 
 WHAT HAPPENED ON A WET DAY. 8 1 
 
 dark-coloured paint water had fallen over her beau- 
 tiful picture. 
 
 " ' Oh ! Mademoiselle,' she cried in great distress, 
 ' look at my poor picture ; all my labour has been 
 for nothing.' 
 
 "'Who has done this? 'said Mademoiselle Alle- 
 meyer, sharply. 
 
 " ' It's all a mystery,' answered Beatrice ; oh ! my 
 poor, poor picture !' 
 
 " Mademoiselle Allemeyer then questioned the 
 servants, but could get nothing more than that they 
 had found the table upset when they brought in the 
 dinner. 
 
 " ' Who was in the room when you went up-stairs, 
 my love?' asked Mademoiselle Allemeyer of Bea- 
 trice. 
 
 " ' Nobody. Oh, yes, Jenny was, for she staid to 
 tell me the story of the Bard's Chair.' 
 
 " Then every body, Mademoiselle, Beatrice, Syl- 
 vine, even Susette looked at me, and I felt that I 
 was suspected. Oh, how wretched I was! but I 
 went up to Beatrice and said quite firmly, ' It was 
 not I that upset the table, Beatrice.' 
 
 " Nobody spoke, and then we sat down to dinner, 
 but I could not eat a bit, for I was sure that if Syl- 
 vine and Beatrice believed me, Mademoiselle and 
 Susette did not. Emily was not there, for she al- 
 ways took her meals with her mamma, who is stay- 
 ing here. I felt so glad she was away. All dinner 
 time everybody was silent and uncomfortable, poor 
 Beatrice thinking of her picture no doubt. After 
 F
 
 8 2 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 dinner, Sylvine and I went into the garden. ' Oh, 
 Sylvine/ I said, 'who could have overturned Bea- 
 trice's table ? I believe Mademoiselle suspects me, 
 and 1 am sure I never told a lie, for papa has always 
 so particularly warned me against the smallest shade 
 of an untruth, and I know how wicked it is to be 
 deceitful. It makes me so wretched to be mistrusted. 
 If I had overturned the table it would have been by 
 pure accident, and though I should have felt very 
 grieved, I should not have been ashamed to confess 
 it.' And then I cried again. Sylvine was very kind, 
 and said a good many things to console me, but all 
 through the day Mademoiselle Allemeyer and Bea- 
 trice have seemed colder to me. I try to bear it 
 patiently, hoping and feeling sure that they will 
 soon have the same good opinion of me that they 
 once had. But it is hard work alone; if were 
 father here I should not mind half so much." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR JULIAN. 
 
 A MONGST other excursions made from Bedd- 
 gf ~ gelert, was one to Festiniog, the prospect of 
 which would have been quite delightful to Jenny, 
 but for the weight on her little heart. Besides, the 
 pleasure party was got up by Mrs Hill, and she could 
 not bring herself to believe that she should be happy 
 hi Emily's company. " I do not dislike her," she 
 reasoned to herself; "papa always told me never to
 
 MR JULIAN. 83 
 
 dislike anyone, or keep up angry feelings; but I 
 know she will say unkind things to me, laugh at me, 
 make disagreeable remarks on my dress, and take 
 Sylvine away from me so I cannot like her. I 
 would much rather never be with her, for she makes 
 me so unhappy that I fear I shall really feel angry 
 and bitter towards her. Oh ! how I wish she would 
 love me and be ladylike and good, like Beatrice and 
 Sylvine." 
 
 On the day appointed, Mrs Hill came into their 
 sitting room, and drawing Mademoiselle Allemeyer 
 to a corner of the room, said "My dear Made- 
 moiselle, I thought it best to come and tell you my 
 arrangements, as you would then know how to make 
 yours. I should like Sylvine, of course, to ride in 
 our carriage, with Mr Hill, Emily, and myself; 
 Beatrice, I know, will be pleased to join the two 
 Miss Markhams, very nice girls, who have just come 
 here with their mother, and who she will frequently 
 see in London my son Frederick will make a fourth 
 for their vehicle. There will then be Julian, my 
 eldest son, Mrs Markham, yourself, aud Julian's 
 college friend, young Kennedy, for the third carriage. 
 Don't you think I have planned it well ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer coloured, looked grave, 
 and hesitated. 
 
 "Would you prefer to take Sylvine with you?" 
 asked Mrs Hill, " if so, Lucy Markham can change 
 places with Mr Kennedy, and Mr Kennedy can ride 
 with us instead of your pupil. As Madame D'Auben- 
 court is so old a friend of mine, I wished to show
 
 84 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAIN?. 
 
 her child all the attention in my power, that is why 
 I proposed " 
 
 "No, Madame Hill," answered Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer. " No, no, I am sure Sylvine's mamma 
 will be pleased that you take such an interest in her ; 
 but I was thinking of another little charge of mine, 
 and as I am sorry to see there will be no room for 
 her, I think I must ask you to excuse me, as I shall 
 feel it my duty to stay with Jenny " 
 
 Here Jenny, who had heard all this conversation 
 from the farther end of the room, rushed up to 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer, and bursting into tears, 
 cried out 
 
 " Oh ! dear Mademoiselle, please go do please 
 go, and don't think about me. I shall not mind 
 being left alone '' 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said Mademoiselle, soothingly ; 
 "no, indeed, Mrs Hill, I could not think of leaving 
 Jenny, as she was placed under my care." 
 
 " How very awkward ; I had quite forgotten there 
 was another little girl Emily ought to have re- 
 minded me," said Mrs Hill, with vexation ; " what 
 is to be done ? would you really mind being left 
 here for two days, my dear, if I give you a nice 
 present instead Mrs Jones, the landlady, will let 
 you play with her children, and take care of you." 
 
 " I don't want any present, and I don't want to 
 play with Mrs Jones' children," burst out Jenny, in- 
 dignantly; "I would not keep Mademoiselle at 
 home for anything 
 
 And then the remembrance of Mrs Hill's kind
 
 MR JULIAN. 85 
 
 words, and of the disappointment she had just re- 
 ceived, made her tears flow afresh, and she sobbed 
 out 
 
 "Mademoiselle, let me go back to papa; I am 
 not afraid of travelling by coach alone, and I am so 
 unhappy ; let me go home to father." 
 
 " Who wants to go home to papa ? " said a cheery 
 voice at the door. 
 
 " Oh ! Julian, is that you ? What business have 
 you here, in Mademoiselle Allemeyer's sitting-room?" 
 asked Mrs Hill, turning to him ;. " but we are in 
 such perplexity and trouble-, do help us out You 
 know we have hired three carriages to take us to 
 Festiniog, but each carriage will only hold four 
 people, and we are thirteen." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 "Why, in the first place, there are five of us 
 three Markhams, one Kennedy, Mademoiselle, 
 Beatrice, Sylvine " 
 
 ' And the thirteenth " 
 
 Mrs Hill pointed to Jenny, who had thrown her- 
 self on the sofa, and with her brown hair cast in dis- 
 order off her brow, and her face hidden in her hands, 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 " Come, come, Miss Thirteenth," said Mr Julian's 
 frank, kindly voice, " leave off crying and begin to 
 dress, for I will make room for you somehow, I'm 
 determined." 
 
 But Jenny could not readily make up her mind to 
 take comfort from him was he not Emily's brother? 
 was he not Mrs Hill's son ? though his voice sounded
 
 86 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 kind, she could not help thinking he was making fun 
 of her all the time. 
 
 " I don't want to go," she said ; " your mamma 
 does not wish to have me, no more does Emily ; I 
 would rather stay here." 
 
 Julian approached the sofa, and laying a gentle 
 hand on Jenny's arm, bade her look up ; the touch 
 and voice were both so friendly and tender that she 
 took courage and did so. 
 
 But was he really kind, and good, and pleasant as 
 he seemed to be ? How she wished his name was 
 not Hill. 
 
 " Well, little lady," he said, " sit up, put the hair 
 off your eyes, and talk to me. You don't want to 
 cry any more, you know, for you are going to 
 Festiniog after all." 
 
 " It was not that not that alone that made me 
 cry," answered Jenny, ingenuously, " I was very 
 much disappointed, but I should not have minded, 
 only only " 
 
 She stopped short and blushed. Could she say to 
 him that his mother and sister had been unkind to her. 
 
 " Only what ? I want to hear all about it, from 
 beginning to end." 
 
 " I cannot tell you all," she said gravely. 
 
 "Why not? Come, if it was not the disappoint- 
 ment you were so unhappy about just now, what 
 was it?" 
 
 "I was unhappy because because, ^1 thought 
 your mamma and sister did not want me, and " 
 
 "And what?"
 
 MR JULIAN. 87 
 
 " I ought not to tell you," she continued hurriedly, 
 and with rising tears, " I ought not to tell you, but I 
 will speak the truth. I thought your mamma did 
 not like me because I am poorly dressed, and 
 countrified, and ignorant " she was sobbing now, 
 " and oh ! I cannot help it, and papa says I can be 
 a lady just as well in print, and be as good and clever 
 in poverty ; and I never thought that being poor was 
 a thing to be ashamed of till how." 
 
 A great vexation came over Julian's face. 
 
 " You must not think of such things," he said, " or 
 imagine that people despise you. Forgive and 
 forget, you know, that is the way to get through life." 
 
 " I know it is," answered the little girl, thought- 
 fully ; " but I think sometimes, forgiving is easier 
 than forgetting. Don't you, Mr Hill ? " 
 
 " Very often : call me Mr Julian." 
 
 " I shall like that, it is such a pretty name." 
 
 " And what is yours." 
 
 "Jenny Roberts, and my mother's name was 
 Vaughan, and she was descended from Owen 
 Glendower," Jenny answered, quite proudly. 
 
 " A very nice name and a very noble ancestor " 
 
 "Jenny, Jenny, come and dress," cried Sylvine at 
 the top of the stairs. 
 
 " Shall I ride in the same carriage with you, Mr 
 Julian ? " asked Jenny, ere she obeyed the summons. 
 
 " Yes and no ; which means I shall not be in the 
 carriage, but yet I shall There is a puzzle for you." 
 
 " Oh ! I know, you will ride on the box . how 
 kind of you to give up your seat to me ; thank you, 
 thank you, a hundred times."
 
 88 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 
 
 " T AM going to fish in the river ; who will accom- 
 pany me?" said Frederick Hill the next 
 morning after breakfast. 
 
 "And I am going to see the waterfalls and to 
 sketch," said Julian; "who goes with me?" 
 
 " I will," said Beatrice. 
 
 "And I," said Jenny. 
 
 " I will go with Frederick," cried Sylvine. 
 
 " So will I," rejoined Emily. 
 
 "And I," added Mademoiselle Allemeyer, "to 
 take care of you all three." 
 
 "We are quite able to take care of ourselves, 
 thank you," said Emily, pertly. 
 
 "For shame, Emily," exclaimed Julian, with 
 rising colour ; if you are so very disagreeable and 
 ill-mannered, I think you had better keep at home, 
 for I am sure your company will be no loss. 
 Mademoiselle, I am much obliged to you for so 
 kindly offering to accompany my sister." 
 
 Lucy Markham, a bright-eyed, talkative girl, here 
 joined the group. 
 
 " Do let me go with you anglers," she said ; " I 
 will help to keep Sylvine from tumbling into the 
 water, Mademoiselle, and make myself generally 
 useful besides." 
 
 " We shall give you the lunch-basket to carry then, 
 of course," said Frederick.
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 89 
 
 " Oh, no, Fred," put in Charles Kennedy, slily, 
 " let me carry that, by all means, for I am always the 
 first to be hungry, and it is not safe in the hands of 
 those ladies." 
 
 "Indeed it is," said Sylvine with dignity, "and if 
 you say such things we wont let you have any cake 
 at all ; will we, Lucy ?" 
 
 " Of course not ; not a single crumb." 
 
 "Then I will go with the sketchers. Here Ju, 
 give me a colour-box and camp-stool ; I'm suddenly 
 turned from angler to artist" 
 
 " We'll give you some cake, if you behave wel 1," 
 whispered Sylvine ; " do go with us." 
 
 So the matter was settled and the two parties set 
 off. Frederick, Charles, Mademoiselle Allemeyer, 
 Lucy, Sylvine and Emily, to the river; Julian, 
 Beatrice, Mary Markham, and Jenny to the Falls. 
 
 How happy they were ! They were not a noisy, 
 romping, gay party, like the other, but enjoyed them- 
 selves in a quiet, reasonable, pleasant way. Julian 
 was clever, and so were Mary and Beatrice; they 
 talked of different places they had seen, people 
 they had met, books they had read, and events 
 that had happened to them. It was a great 
 treat to Jenny to sit under those hanging trees, 
 gaze on those dark rocks and falling waters, and 
 hear such conversation. It was like reading a 
 delightful book, a book in which every page was 
 beautiful and new, and illustrated with pictures. 
 Sometimes she timidly asked the explanation of a 
 word or sentence, and then, either of the speakers
 
 90 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 were glad to give it. Mary kindly lent her a pencil 
 and sketch-book, and helped her to draw a little bit 
 of rock scenery. Beatrice gave her the use of a 
 paint brush and colours to finish it up, and when the 
 drawing was complete, it won universal praise as a 
 first attempt 
 
 I must now relate what befel the anglers. They 
 started forth merrily enough ; Charles and Frederick 
 bearing their long fishing-rods; Lucy and Sylvine 
 little baskets of cakes and sandwiches ; Emily an 
 umbrella (much against her^inclination, I assure you), 
 and good, placid Mademoiselle Allemeyer a book. 
 
 "Now, Charley," cried Frederick, "you and I 
 must lead the way, of course, as these ladies are not 
 supposed to know a good angler's station." 
 
 " Well, I think we shall do very well over against 
 the stream yonder, where the lane ends ; the land- 
 lord told me there were plenty of trout here." 
 
 "I can see one, two, three," cried Sylvine, 
 delightedly clapping her hands; "look, Frederick, 
 can't you see some pretty little fishes swimming 
 about in the water ? Catch them, do." 
 
 " I should be clever to get them now, Miss Sylvine; 
 see, how at the sound of your clapping they have 
 edged away. We anglers must be as quiet as mice." 
 
 " As quiet as mice all day ? " 
 
 " Yes ; when we are fishing." 
 
 "Then it must be very dull. I hope you will 
 not want us to be quiet also," pursued Sylvine, some- 
 what gravely. 
 
 " That depends whether you are near us or not," 
 answered Frederick.
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 91 
 
 " We'll run away and play at hide-and-seek in the 
 wood," whispered Sylvine ; " wont we, Emmy ? " 
 
 It was a pretty place they fixed upon, a skirt of 
 rock covered with heath and fern which led down 
 by rather steep steps to the streamlet, whilst behind 
 lay a wood tangled with hazel, cloud-berry, furze, 
 hawthorn, and shaded with lofty oak and birch trees. 
 
 " This is very nice," said Mademoiselle Alley- 
 meyer ; " we can watch you at your fishing, and yet 
 our reading or talking will not be near enough to be 
 a disturbance, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh ! dear no, ma'am," replied Frederick, " and 
 I hope our company will be no disturbance some- 
 times, for you may be sure we shall often pay you 
 visits." 
 
 So the two young men clambered down the rock, 
 Lucy brought out her work, and Mademoiselle 
 opened her book. 
 
 " We will go in the wood," said Sylvine, and off 
 they went, after a caution from Mademoiselle not to 
 go out of the path, or too far away from her. 
 
 It was a lovely day for such a walk. The bright 
 blue sky gleamed between the lacework of green 
 leaves above their heads ; the sunlight streamed 
 across the red beech leaves and lighted up distant 
 coppices ; birds carolled everywhere ; sly-looking 
 squirrels leapt among the branches, or rested with 
 tail erect to gaze on them. Who would not wish to 
 walk through a wood on such a day ? 
 
 They walked on for some time, and by-and-by 
 came to a breaking off of the path into two ; one
 
 leading quite through the wood, the other edged by 
 steep ledges of rock overhanging the stream. Un- 
 consciously they had ascended a great height, and 
 were surprised now on looking down to see how 
 narrow the stream looked, and how small the figures 
 of Frederick and Charles appeared in the distance. 
 
 "We had better go back, Emily," said Sylvine, 
 " we must have have come farther than we thought." 
 
 " Oh ! we have been away no time as yet. It is 
 so pretty, do let us go a few steps farther." 
 
 Sylvine followed rather reluctantly. 
 
 " A few steps, then, to oblige you ; it can't make 
 much difference." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Emily, and went on. 
 
 " And now we must go back," repeated Sylvine. 
 
 " But we need not go home the same way, all 
 through the wood again ; let us clamber down these 
 rocks and walk back beneath them by the side of the 
 stream, think, how delightful that would be !" 
 
 "We cannot get down," said Sylvine, peeping 
 timidly over ; " see how steep and uneven they are ; 
 Jenny could, because she is used to it, but I am sure 
 we should fall ; dear Emily, let us go back by the 
 wood." 
 
 Emily made no answer, but gathering up her frock, 
 and planting her feet firmly on two crevices, going 
 down backward as you would a ladder, made a step 
 or two. 
 
 " There now ; what is easier or safer than this ? I 
 find two places for my feet, I hold on two points ot 
 rock by my hands, and creep down as nicely as 
 possible. Come, Sylvine, don't be a cownrd."
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 93 
 
 " I'm not a coward, Emily, but we were told not 
 to leave the path." 
 
 " Oh ! that's all very well : you're a silly little coward 
 and nothing else. Here I am at the bottom. Hurrah, 
 hurrah !" 
 
 Sylvine did not like being called a coward ; none 
 of us do; and this foolish fear of being called 
 cowards, even by those we -despise, often leads us 
 into mischief. Besides, she reasoned to herself, 
 Emily is safe down, and why should I take more 
 harm than she ? Mademoiselle wont be angry when 
 she finds what a nice adventure we have had. 
 
 So she followed Emily, and after many fears and 
 bruises, got safely to the ground also. Now they 
 gambolled on gaily, a strip of turf just offering width 
 enough to walk side by side between the rushing 
 rivulet and craggy embankment. 
 
 The river here made a sudden turn, and, broken 
 in its quiet course by huge blocks of rock scattered 
 around in all directions, dashed impetuously over 
 them, making here and there fantastic cascades, and 
 sweeping away every vestige of a path beneath the 
 jutting crags, flowed hurriedly and noisily under theii 
 dark shade. 
 
 " Oh ! Emily, what shall we do ?" cried Sylvine, 
 in terror. 
 
 "Can't we climb up as we climbed down? or, 
 perhaps, we might cross the stones higher up, where 
 the river is quieter; but don't sit down and cry, 
 Sylvine ; there is nothing to cry about." 
 
 By contriving to hold on the slippery green rocks,
 
 94 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 she kept her footing a few steps further on, and 
 Sylvine, encouraged by her success, timidly followed. 
 Emily peered forth under the shadows below. 
 " I can see some steps cut in the rock, leading, 
 no doubt, up to the wood above," she said ; " if we 
 can but reach them we are safe." 
 
 Another effort made, and another small advance 
 gained 
 
 "The steps at last !" exclaimed Emily, joyfully. 
 But another difficulty arose ; the supposed steps 
 proved to be nothing but a jagged rock, having the 
 appearance of stairs, and worn even by the course 
 of the waters so even and so slippery with the wet 
 moss on it, as to offer a very insecure footing. 
 
 " We'll try it, anyhow," said Emily, who prided 
 herself upon her courage a courage, alas ! which 
 often led her into trouble ; not the true noble cour- 
 age which can bear trouble meekly. And she did 
 try it, made a step or two, missed her footing, fell 
 down into the bed of the river below ! 
 
 She gave a loud scream of agony, " Help, Sylvine ! 
 help ! " but it was not needed, for Sylvine, though 
 she was not naturally bold and fearless, now felt the 
 responsibility and danger of the moment too great 
 for hesitation or fear, and in an instant was knee- 
 deep in the water tugging hard at Emily's frock. 
 Had Emily possessed any amount of presence of 
 mind she might have rescued herself; but she had 
 sprained her ankle badly, and the pain and fright 
 together rendered her utterly helpless. So, dripping 
 wet, pale, and shivering, she was dragged to the foot
 
 
 
 
 SYLVINB ASSISTING EMILY AFTER PALLING INTO THK WATKR. Page 94.
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 97 
 
 of the banks and lay there, too frightened to cry. 
 Sylvine wrung the water out of her clothes with all 
 the might of her little hands, and did her best to act 
 the part of comforter. 
 
 " Never mind, Emmy, I'll find my way back alone 
 and get Fred to come for you ; I won't be gone long; 
 and when you get home and have some stuff rubbed 
 on your ankle, it will soon be better." 
 
 " But I can't be left here all by myself," answered 
 Emily, crossly; "I am so cold and wet, and, oh! 
 my foot, how it aches !" 
 
 " Then, dear Emmy, I will cry out with all my 
 strength till somebody comes who can go to Fred for 
 us. I shall make such a noise, I'm sure to be heard." 
 
 She jumped to her feet, and called out in her 
 loudest voice 
 
 " Fred ! Julian ! here we are ! help !" 
 
 And the high rocks echoed back her own words ; 
 but there was no other answer. Again she tried, and 
 again the echo rang through the glen and died away. 
 
 Tired and despairing, having now no word of con- 
 solation to say to each other, both the children burst 
 into passionate tears. It was indeed a gloomy spot 
 beautiful to look down upon, in happiness and 
 safety, from the heights above, but gloomy and sad 
 to be shut in its solitude, with no living being in 
 sight ; no more cheering sound than the everlasting 
 plash and eddy of the waters ; no more cheering 
 sight than those high steep rocks on the side of which 
 grew, here and there, a few stunted trees, but even 
 they were out of reach. And on the other side of 
 the stream, Sylvine could see a sloping, pleasant
 
 98 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 path of bright turf, leading by easy ascents up to the 
 wood. What a little, little way across it seemed ; 
 but it might as well have been miles apart, for the 
 clear, brown, cruel waters interposed. 
 
 Yet an hour ago how lovely this little river had 
 appeared to her; how she had rejoiced to see it foam 
 and sparkle in the sunlight. Ah, how happy she 
 had been only an hour ago ! 
 
 " Don't you think we shall soon be found ?" cried 
 Emily, with a sudden start 
 
 "I don't know; it seems such a dark solitary place, 
 I fear no one could hear us if we scream ever so 
 loudly ; and oh, Emmy, I'm so hungry." 
 
 " I wouldn't mind being hungry if my foot did not 
 pain me so, the pain makes me sick. Could you give 
 me a little water to drink, Sylvine ? " 
 
 Sylvine hollowed her hand and fetched some water, 
 after which Emily looked revived and said 
 
 " Did you say you were hungry ? I have a biscuit 
 in my pocket ; eat it." 
 
 "No, Emily, I'll only eat half." 
 
 " Yes," replied Emily, shortly, " take the whole. I 
 led you into the scrape, and I deserve tobe hungryfirst." 
 
 Sylvine put the damp curls off her brow, wiped her 
 eyes, and munched the biscuit with great relish. 
 Even that scanty meal gave her courage. 
 
 Both looked up, but it was impossible to guess the 
 distance; it must, however, be a good way off. They 
 could just get a peep at a smooth green pasture high 
 above their heads, and this they knew to be an en- 
 largement of the grassy path they had so unwisely left. 
 
 " I don't like being left alone, for I'm afraid you
 
 ADVENTURES OF THE FISHING PARTY. 99 
 
 would never find the way, and the path is so unsafe 
 at the foot of the rocks, you might fall into the water; 
 and yet I don't want to be here all night. Oh ! what 
 shall we do ? " wailed Emily. 
 
 " I don't know what o'clock it is, but I fancy it 
 must be two hours since we left the others. Don't 
 cry, Emmy, by-and-by I will try and call out again ; 
 they may be nearer and hear me ; and and if they 
 are not here soon, perhaps I had better find my way 
 back alone." 
 
 " Give me your hand, Sylvine, if I could only walk 
 a little way." 
 
 She tried a step or two, but with her sprained foot 
 it was agony ; then both sat down again, silent and 
 sorrowful. An hour passed so. 
 
 The sun was now getting low in the horizon, a cool 
 breeze stirred the trees, and the little girls shivered 
 in their thin dresses, for in Wales autumnal evenings 
 are very chilly. Emily shook from head to foot in 
 consequence of sitting so long in wet clothes. 
 
 Once, twice, three times Sylvine had called for help 
 in vain. At last, as the sun sank behind the lowest 
 mountain-top, she jumped up and prepared to seek 
 her way to the village. 
 
 " Good-bye, Emmy," she said, kissing her; "don't 
 be afraid, I shall soon get home, and I will send a 
 nice thick shawl to wrap you in and a cake to eat. I'll 
 leave you my cape, for I shall not be so cold walking." 
 
 She took it off and carefully bestowed it round the 
 shivering girl, who was too wretched to thank her. 
 
 Just then but what happened must be told in. 
 another chapter.
 
 100 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST. 
 
 T T OW hungry I am !" said Lucy Markham ; "it 
 
 * must be getting time to have lunch." 
 
 Mademoiselle took out her watch. 
 
 " Yes, it is already two o'clock ; how quickly the 
 time has passed over this charming book. But those 
 naughty children, where can they be ? " 
 
 " Shall I go a little way into the wood and call 
 them?" 
 
 " A thousand thanks, my dear. My own lungs are 
 not very good." 
 
 Lucy put on her hat, which for coolness she had 
 thrown off, and darted off, nimble as a hare, among 
 the trees. She went about two hundred yards, then 
 seeing no one, made a trumpet of her little plump 
 hands, and shouted 
 
 " Sylvine ! Sylvine ! where are you ? " 
 
 No answer ; but her voice startled a wood pigeon 
 from its nest, who flew above her head far, far away. 
 Again she cried louder still, 
 
 " Sylvine ! Emily ! come here." 
 
 No answer, and a little bright - eyed squirrel 
 watched her from a fir-tree, as much as to say, " It's 
 no use, they can't hear you." She walked on afewsteps 
 farther, and by-and-by she met a tiny, toddling child. 
 
 " Little one," she said stooping down and giving 
 him a penny, "have you seen any one pass this way 
 two little girls with hats on ? "
 
 THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST. IOI 
 
 "Na na," he answered, for he could not understand 
 a word of English. 
 
 " What, ma'am ? " said a good-natured voice sud- 
 denly, and a woodman jumped from the midst of the 
 thicket into the path. He was employed clearing a 
 part of the wood, and was now returning with his 
 little boy to dinner, for he lived down in the valley. 
 
 " I want two little girls ; have you seen them ? " 
 
 " Indeed, ma'am, no ; I've seen no one ; but I've 
 been busy down yonder, a good way off." 
 
 Lucy returned to Mademoiselle in great discontent. 
 
 " Tiresome children," she said, pettishly ; " no one 
 knows where they are, and I can see or hear nothing 
 of them. I will call Frederick, and send him into the 
 wood, his voice is louder and will be heard soonest. 
 But I must positively eat something first, or I shaV 
 be famished." 
 
 She snatched a sandwich, and eating it quickly, 
 called to the young men below, who put up their 
 tackle and clambered up, bearing a basket of fine fish. 
 
 " What fine sport we have had ; see these trout, 
 Miss Markham," said Charley Kennedy, " and such 
 lots more : but we must stop to eat" 
 
 " And we must stop to look after these children," 
 Lucy answered ; " only fancy, they took it into their 
 heads to ramble in the woods two hours since, and 
 have not come back. I think we had better eat our 
 lunch and then all go on the search, taking different 
 paths ; don't you, Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 She looked round, but Mademoiselle was gone. 
 Too anxious to wait for anything, she had started off 
 ere they had perceived it
 
 102 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 They all set off, Frederick following in the track 
 taken by Mademoiselle, Charley and Lucy forcing 
 their way through a narrower and more difficult one. 
 Long brambles and hazel boughs every now and 
 then came into their faces, and poor Lucy's muslin 
 dress got sadly torn, but they pushed on, neverthe- 
 less, with good heart. 
 
 They had gone on for an hour like this, without 
 discovering a trace of the missing children, when 
 suddenly they came to a great clearance in the wood. 
 By-and-by the trees grew fewer, the rocks more steep 
 and broken, the sound of water below noisier still ; 
 at last they stood looking down upon it, and there, 
 on a slab of dark rock, surrounded by wild waters 
 and crags and over-arching trees, were the two 
 children, Emily half sitting, half lying at Sylvine's 
 feet, whilst the latter, stooping, wrapped her little 
 mantle round her. 
 
 "Sylvine! Emily! Ho!" 
 With a wild scream of delight Sylvine rose to her feet 
 
 " I've sprained my ankle," cried Emily, fretfully. 
 
 " And I am so hungry," said Sylvine. 
 
 " I dare say you are ; can't you catch a carp ? " 
 shouted Charley, who must always have his joke, 
 though at heart he was as kind as possible. " Well, 
 we'll feed you gloriously as soon as we get you, but 
 that's the difficulty. Will you be afraid to stay here 
 whilst I go to the village for a boat, or donkey, or 
 fishing-net, or something to get you away with ? It's 
 impossible for me to get down there, or if I did, I 
 could never carry you up."
 
 THE SEARCH FOR THE LOST. 1 03 
 
 They looked rather doleful at the prospect of being 
 again left in that dark glen. 
 
 " Good-bye, little Misses Robinson Crusoe, I will 
 go as quickly as my legs can carry me." 
 
 And he and poor Lucy threaded their way through 
 the wood again right cheerily, meeting Frederick and 
 Mademoiselle in their way, who had began to be 
 very anxious but were rejoiced to hear of the lost 
 ones being found. 
 
 You may be sure the time seemed long to Sylvine 
 and Emily whilst they awaited their deliverance, but 
 hope gave them patience, and if they cried at all, it 
 was for joy. By-and-by a fishing punt appeared in 
 sight rowed by Charley and a peasant from the 
 village, who, when the rocks were reached, jumped 
 out, and wading above his knees in water, bore them 
 one by one on his shoulders to the boat. Oh ! the 
 joy of the two girls as they once more felt themselves 
 in safety. How they demolished the bread and 
 apples Charley had thoughtfully provided for them, 
 and how glad they were to alight and find themselves 
 with kind, grave Mademoiselle and Lucy. 
 
 " Oh ! dear, dear Mademoiselle," cried Sylvine, 
 as they all turned their steps towards the inn, an in- 
 valid carriage having been brought for Emily, "do for- 
 give me, for I have been so wretched." 
 
 "Let us hear all about it," replied Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer ; " mind, Sylvine, the whole truth. Child, 
 child, you little think of the anxiety you have caused."
 
 104 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BENIGHTED. 
 
 '"PHE next day they were to return to Beddgelert ; 
 -* the Hill party proposing to proceed to Llan- 
 gollen by way of Bala and Corwen, which places 
 they had not yet seen, whilst Mademoiselle had 
 received instruction from Madame D'Aubencourt to 
 meet her with her young charges at Bangor. So the 
 pleasant party would be broken up ; for pleasant it had 
 been to all, and to Jenny especially, in spite of her 
 aversion to join it. The hotel being full and every 
 vehicle in request, only one carriage could be obtained 
 and three cars, not the easiest thing in the world for 
 a journey. However, every one put on a cheerful 
 countenance, and declared themselves ready to bear 
 any amount of jolting ; so preparations for departure 
 went on cheerily enough. When all were ready and 
 mustered on the terrace for departure, the landlord 
 came up with a rueful countenance, " I am very sorry 
 to disappoint you, Madam," he said, bowing, " but I 
 find that I can only offer you two cars, one unknown 
 to myself having been sent to the next village I am 
 very sorry very." 
 
 " How very provoking ! " exclaimed Mrs Hill, 
 "now that we are all ready for starting, and I have 
 written for horses and carriages to meet us at 
 Maenturog ! Julian, what is to be done ? " 
 
 " I can't imagine. Oh ! let some go, and some 
 stay. When will another car be in, Mr Humphreys ? " 
 
 "Itis impossible to say, sir; anyminute or any hour." 
 
 " Then, mamma, you and those who prefer it had
 
 BENIGHTED. 105 
 
 better start at once, and we who stay can follow 
 directly the car comes. Who volunteers to stay ? " 
 
 " Let me go with you, mamma/' said Emily ; " I 
 don't like riding in cars." 
 
 "Who goes with my mother, who stays with me?" 
 said Julian. 
 
 " May I stay, please ? " asked Jenny, timidly. 
 
 " Then I stay if Jenny does," put in Sylvine. 
 
 "I'll wait for you, Ju, with pleasure," said Charley. 
 
 "And I want my dinner, so I'll go with my 
 mother," added Fred. 
 
 " I '11 wait, too, if I am allowed," said merry Lucy. 
 
 "And pray don't exclude me," rejoined Made- 
 moiselle, Julian dropped his hand. 
 
 "The poll is closed," he said, smiling; "I can 
 take no more votes ; two cars will only hold six." 
 
 " But if Sylvine stay, I should like to do so too," 
 Emily said, discontentedly. "I thought of course 
 she would go with mamma." 
 
 " Too late, too late, Miss Emmy. Only six are 
 required to wait, and the six have already declared 
 themselves. Besides, you don't like riding in cars." 
 
 " She '11 have to ride in a car, any how," said Fred, 
 who was fond of teasing ; " mamma said just now, 
 Mrs Markham, my father, and herself would fill the 
 carriage, and we young ones were to ride in the car ; 
 so Emily you are in for it Oh ! what a jolting we 
 shall have ! " 
 
 Almost ready to cry with vexation, Emily took 
 her seat ; and with waving of hands the first party 
 drove off. The others dispersed in the garden, 
 where Sylvine and Jenny had a good game at hide-
 
 106 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 and-seek, in which Charley joined them. All 
 Charleys, I think, are fond of fun. 
 
 In about two hours time the landlord came run- 
 ning out in a great fluster. 
 
 "The car is come, ladies and gentlemen, and I 
 have ordered a fresh horse to be put in immediately; 
 in the meantime, won't you come in and take a cup 
 of tea or some refreshment; you have a tedious 
 journey before you." 
 
 " Will it be prudent to wait for that?" asked Julian, 
 taking out his watch; "we don't wish to be late." 
 
 " Oh ! never fear, sir, the roads are good and the 
 lads know them well. Do take a sandwich or glass 
 of ale or something." 
 
 Tea was soon provided, and having partaken of it 
 hastily, the little party soon started. It was now late 
 in the afternoon and heavy clouds drifted across the 
 mountains, obscuring their summits or resting mid- 
 way on their surfaces. Jenny rode with Lucy and 
 Charley, who were about the two merriest compan- 
 ions one could have had, and Charley told such droll 
 stories; Lucy said such funny things, that she well- 
 nigh cried with laughter. 
 
 Just then a few heavy drops fell, indicative of the 
 storm coming on. 
 
 " Oh, goodness ! these Welsh showers are no 
 jokes, and you ladies have no umbrellas ; what is to 
 be done?" said Charley, for once looking serious. 
 
 " We must get wet, I suppose," answered Lucy, 
 brightly, " and go to bed directly we reach home, to 
 prevent cold." 
 
 The rain now fell in torrents, and dense black
 
 BENIGHTED. 107 
 
 clouds obscured the sky; it was growing almost 
 dark. Charley wrapt his rug round Lucy and 
 Jenny as well as he could, but even that was 
 ineffectual to cover them entirely, whilst he himself 
 with his light shooting jacket buttoned to his chin, 
 smiled and whistled as if nothing were the matter. 
 Soon the other car came up. " Charley," said Julian, 
 " this will never do ; we must get shelter somewhere, 
 if only a cowshed ; we shall otherwise soon be wet 
 through, and these ladies will catch no end of colds. 
 Ask your driver if he knows any house or shelter 
 near ; ours hardly understands a sentence of English." 
 
 Charley obeyed, but only received in reply a shake 
 of the head ; at this Jenny got up, and said to him 
 in Welsh 
 
 " We cannot go on in the rain. These gentlemen 
 wish you to drive them to the nearest shelter you 
 know of; anywhere, so long as we can get under a roof." 
 
 The man immediately said that there were two 
 cottages close by in a hollow, and he would drive 
 them there ; only poor people lived in them, but he 
 supposed at least they had a room fit to sit in. This 
 answer Jenny joyously translated to the others, and 
 in five minutes' time they were set down at the top 
 of a little hollow in which stood a tiny stone house, 
 surrounded by a garden. Julian's loud knock was 
 answered by a tidy girl in blue cotton bodice and 
 red petticoat, whose black intelligent eyes im- 
 mediately guessed the tale, and she beckoned them 
 in cordially. The room was small, low-roofed, and 
 humble, but there was still an air of comfort in it 
 A tin of hot potatoes stood browning before the fire,
 
 108 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 and a kettle of milk boiled on it, giving a pleasant 
 prospect of supper. One or two curious pictures, 
 representing various heroes and heroines of Wales 
 hung over the mantelpiece ; in one corner stood a 
 spinning-wheel and a huge bundle of yarn ; a rude 
 black clothes' press, a row of flowers in pots, a 
 cupboard of earthenware (some jugs ingeniously 
 replenished with tin handles), a hymn-book and 
 newspaper, these, with a few chairs, completed the 
 furniture. She motioned them to sit down, and 
 then, without the slightest bashfulness, sat down at 
 her wheel, and industriously went on with her 
 tveaving, scarcely taking her eyes off her work. At 
 the end of an hour's time, during which the storm 
 had in nowise abated, an elderly and respectable 
 looking man entered the cottage. He was very wet, 
 though wrapped up in a waterproof rug. 
 
 " Your servant, ladies and gentlemen," he said in 
 good English; "I see the storm hath driven you 
 into my poor house, and I am afraid it will keep you 
 here for some time yet. I thought it would have 
 kept me on the mountains all night." 
 
 " You are a shepherd, then ? " asked Julian. 
 
 " No, sir, I'm na' shepherd, indeed ; but I keep a 
 few cows which pasture on the mountain-sides by 
 day, and are housed in sheds hard by here at night 
 About two hours ago I went to drive them home, 
 seeing the storm pending; but I was na' soon 
 enough, and I thought I never should have got the 
 poor beasts together Now Greta, girl, get your 
 father's supper." 
 
 The last words were spoken in Welsh, and
 
 BENIGHTI T). 1 09 
 
 immediately the girl jumped up and prepared their 
 evening meal. The first business was to pour the 
 milk over the potatoes and mash them with salt, 
 pepper, and butter in a flat dish ; having done this, 
 she placed it by the fire, and brought out from a 
 cupboard a slice of bacon which she fried, and placed 
 over the potatoes. When this savoury mess was put 
 on the table, the man turned round with a smile. 
 
 "Indeed, ladies and gentlemen, it's humble 
 victuals, but if you are as hungered as I am, it won't 
 taste bad, and I'm sure you're most welcome to it." 
 
 "Thank you, my friend, a thousand times," replied 
 Julian ; " we are not hungry, or I am sure we should 
 much enjoy such a good meal. Your daughter seems 
 a capital cook." 
 
 " Indeed she is, sir," replied the countryman, with 
 evident pleasure at the remark ; " Greta is a good 
 girl, and might have had lots of places at service 
 before now, but she likes her father better than to 
 leave him ; and now the child is gone I could na 1 
 part with her." 
 
 "You have lost a child, then?" said Mademoiselle. 
 
 "Yes, I have lost a child," replied the man, 
 sorrowfully. " I fear we shall never find little 
 Angela again " 
 
 At the mention of this name Greta put down her 
 knife and fork, and looked at her father with wet, 
 wistful eyes. 
 
 " Ah, girl ! how you prick up your ears at hearing 
 the little lamb's name. She was na' kith nor kin of 
 our'n, lady, yet we loved her; poor little Angela, 
 God save thee ! "
 
 1 10 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Here Greta jumped up, and laying her hand on 
 her father's arm, said a few words earnestly. He 
 answered her again, and then turned to the strangers. 
 
 " She wanted to know what I was saying about 
 our baby, and thought I had heard of her, but I fear 
 me I never shall. Is na' London a great way off? " 
 
 " It is a good way." 
 
 " Across the sea, may be ? " he continued. ' 
 
 " No, no, it is not beyond the sea ; we could get 
 to it from here in little more than a day." 
 
 He looked thoughtful, and then said 
 
 " But it's a long way for all that ; a long way for 
 those who are poor and ignorant If I thought I 
 could find the child I would go nathless ; only what 
 would happen to the poor daughter at home ? " 
 
 " If you don't mind telling us, we should so like 
 to hear about your lost child, and perhaps we might 
 help you to find her." 
 
 His eyes brightened, and turning round to Greta 
 he translated Julian's speech, and seemed to ask her 
 opinion in the matter. She nodded, and hastily 
 dispatching his meal, he brushed away a few tears 
 and told his tale. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 LITTLE ANGELA. 
 
 A BOUT five years ago, in the spring-time, before 
 
 the hotels and lodging-houses were crowded 
 
 with visitors, I was looking after my cows on those
 
 LITTLE ANGELA. Ill 
 
 mountains yonder, one morning early, when I was 
 startled by the cry of a young child. 
 
 High and low, right and left, for a quarter of an 
 hour, I searched in vain ; at length, under the sheltei 
 of some shrubs, I found a woman, pale, death-like, 
 and woebegone, with a tiny, golden-haired little girl 
 kneeling beside her and crying bitterly. The woman 
 looked about twenty-five, the child about three, and 
 both were dressed in a curious, outlandish way, with 
 handkerchiefs made into hoods over their heads, 
 strings of beads round their necks, and white bodices, 
 ornamented with coloured flowers ; they did not look 
 coarse and common like country people, and yet did 
 not look like ladies. At a first glance I took them 
 for foreigners, and I was right, for when I gave the 
 poor thing a little whisky out of my flask, she sat up 
 and began talking in a strange language. By-and-by 
 she seemed to understand that she was in a new 
 country, and tried to say a little English. All I 
 could understand, was this, " Save baby bad father !" 
 and this she kept on saying over and over again. 
 Well, I got her and the child home, when Greta 
 made them some porridge, and nursed the little one, 
 and I found them quite comfortable by the time I 
 got back at night from the mountains. Still she was 
 as much in the dark as ever regarding their name, 
 country, and business, for the poor woman could not 
 understand a word of Welsh. When I had taken my 
 supper, however, and the baby was in bed, she came 
 up to me and said 
 
 "I go work keep darling from bad father; I work 
 to pay you."
 
 1 1 2 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 I wanted to know her name and story, but she 
 made no answer except that her name was Sain, 
 and kept on repeating the same words. Then she 
 brought out a little bag of money, shillings, sixpences, 
 halfpence, poured it out on the table, and counted 
 up the pieces. They came to one pound, three 
 shillings, and a penny. Having taken back one 
 shilling, she pushed the others to me. 
 
 "You good man; daughter good; keep baby, love 
 it. I go to work ; will come again soon and bring you 
 more. Promise to keep the child I promise to work." 
 
 " You are going to leave it ? " I said. 
 
 She answered me as well as she could that she was 
 going to work for its maintenance, and in the mean- 
 time wanted me to take care of the child, as it had 
 a bad father, who would take it away, and make it 
 learn to dance at fairs and live in wickedness. At 
 last she got up and went away, only turning round 
 to repeat again 
 
 " Keep it from father." 
 
 We saw no more of her for some time, and mean- 
 while our darling grew in health and beauty. She 
 was tall of her age, and slight, with fine golden curls, 
 blue eyes, and fair white skin, just now and then a 
 little rosiness in her cheeks. She was wondrously 
 quick and lively, soon speaking Welsh and English, 
 and learning everything we could teach her. Alack ! 
 it was not much. I can read a little and write the 
 letters, and do a few easy sums, and that is all ; but 
 though we could not make her clever, we could teach 
 her to say her prayers, and we loved her as well as if 
 we had known everything that is to be learned in
 
 LITTLE ANGELA. 11$ 
 
 books. She was very happy with us and loved us 
 dearly ; never forgetting her mamma, but often 
 saying little prayers she had taught her in a strange 
 tongue. Venice, I think she said, was the name of 
 the place she came from, but she was such a wee 
 thing that she could not of course remember much. 
 So time slipped by, and one summer day her mother 
 came, looking as thin and pale as ever, but dressed 
 more like English people, and better able to speak 
 to me in that language. She told me that by singing 
 in the streets she had got a little money, which she 
 had come to bring me, and that she would soon 
 go away again. I refused to take the money, and 
 wanted her to stay with us and earn her living by 
 sewing, or service, or some such thing. But she 
 shook her poor head and replied : 
 
 " Good man, I know what you say is kind and 
 good, but I cannot, dare not, abide by it I should 
 like, oh ! how I should like, to live here in peace and 
 innocence with you and my Angela, but so long as I 
 keep in London her father will not seek her else- 
 where, and if I disappear entirely, he will never, 
 never rest till he has found her." 
 
 She wept bitterly, and clung to me in a frightened, 
 bird-like way as she said this, and added : 
 
 " I can bear cruelty and hardship myself, but it 
 would kill me to see my darling dressed up in silks 
 and spangles, and dancing at fairs and other wicked 
 places of amusement, learning naught but vice and sor- 
 row. Oh ! no, my friend, let me go and keep her here; 
 here she learns nothing but to live harmlessly and to 
 H
 
 114 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 love God ; and if if ever he comes, her father, her 
 enemy, hide her, flee with her, never give her up." 
 
 I promised, and again, after spending one day 
 with us, she went away. Ah ! poor soul, how she 
 smiled in spite of her misery that day; how she gam- 
 bolled with her darling on the mountain side ; how 
 she sang to us after the evening meal, almost forget- 
 ting in her glimpse of happiness the misery to come. 
 But night came,thechild slept, and she had to say fare- 
 well. My tears fall now as I think of those partings. 
 
 But I must hasten my story. Two years more 
 passed away, and our darling was old enough to go 
 to the church school in the valley, and to help Greta 
 home with the kine. She looked too fair and angel- 
 like for household work, still we thought it wisest to 
 accustom her to be useful and homely, as she would 
 have to earn her own living most likely one day. 
 
 It was a mild day in February, three years ago, 
 when we lost her. I remember the day so well. 
 Greta had gone to a fair at Tremadoc to sell some 
 stuffs and stockings, and as I crossed the mountain 
 a company of strolling players and mountebanks 
 went through Maenturog on their way to it. Amongst 
 them was a poor pale little child, about our darling's 
 age, and it made me sad all day for thinking of the 
 fate she had been spared. Greta could not be home 
 till night time, as she was coming in a carrier's cart, 
 and I went home early to supper, thinking the child 
 would be dull alone. Ah ! I remember as I clambered 
 down the hill side, that I wondered how she would 
 manage to cook the potatoes and pork for daddy, as 
 she called me ; how she would run up to the garden
 
 LITTLE ANGELA. 115 
 
 gate, with her golden curls roughening in the wind, 
 to look for me, and how she would jump into my 
 arms, saying, " Supper is ready, and I've cooked it," 
 with such harmless pride. I must end "my story, for 
 my heart is ,too full to say more. The strolling 
 players passed our Angela on the road, as she was 
 returning from school, and I suppose her father was 
 among the number and knew her. Whether it was 
 so or not we never knew, but at midnight when I 
 got to Tremadoc, the players had gone no one 
 could tell me whither. The little golden head 
 never made our cottage bright again ; our darling is 
 gone like a helpless innocent lamb into the great 
 cruel world. God in heaven keep her, and give us 
 patience to bear this trouble. 
 
 I think there were few dry eyes as the honest man 
 finished his story, and poor Greta, who understood 
 well the subject of it, buried her face in her apron 
 and sobbed aloud. At this the father wiped away 
 his own tears with his sleeve, and patted her on the 
 shoulder with a cheering word or two. It was 
 beautiful to see these simple-hearted people so full 
 of love and sympathy. 
 
 " Do not despair, my friend," said Julian, kindly ; 
 " London is not so large a place but that your little 
 Angela may be found. No doubt her father was 
 among the strolling players you mentioned, and took 
 her away with him. But it is quite possible that her 
 mother may have rescued her again, and fled with 
 her to some other place of safety. When I get to 
 London I will make every inquiry, and perhaps I
 
 Il6 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 may discover some clue to their whereabouts. What 
 is the mother's name !" 
 
 "Carla Saffi; a curious name and difficult to 
 spell," answered the man. "Oh! sir, God bless 
 you for your kindness in troubling yourself about 
 me. If you could see right into my heart you 
 would know that I am grateful. I could be quite 
 happy never to see our little girl, if I did but know 
 that she was growing up innocent and God-fearing 
 as she was here." 
 
 " Let us hope for the best," replied Julian. 
 
 The moon was now up, and having taken leave of 
 their host, Evan Evans, and the good Greta, the 
 little party pursued their way homewards. You may 
 imagine that they talked a good deal of little Angela 
 on their way. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 TWO DAYS AT CARNARVON. BEATRICE'S DIARY. 
 
 "OEPTEMBER 4th. A lovely day. We started 
 at one o'clock for Carnarvon, and drove out- 
 side the coach, which was quite a novelty to us, and 
 very pleasant, as we had such a good opportunity of 
 seeing the scenery. I was sorry to leave Beddgelert, 
 and shall never forget the wild beautiful vale, the 
 grand mountains, and the birch-trees that hang so 
 lovingly over poor Gelert's grave. The affair of the 
 picture makes us all very uncomfortable. I do not 
 so much grieve at the thought of my labour being 
 wasted, as I do at the suspicion of Jenny's deceit ;
 
 TWO DAYS AT CARNARVON. 117 
 
 for she is so simple-hearted, so sweet-tempered, and 
 so intelligent that I had begun to love her very 
 much. I feel very, very disappointed. Oh ! if we 
 could but find out that she is innocent after all ; yet 
 who else would have done it ? 
 
 " We have left Emily at Beddgelert ; so much the 
 better, and I do believe Sylvine is not sorry, for 
 Emily was so selfish that she wanted her own way 
 in everything. I hope we shall not meet her again ; 
 yet we all miss her brothers, Mr Kennedy, and the 
 Markhams. We had a good view of grand old 
 Snowdon and the mountains round Beddgelert as we 
 passed along, and saw a very pretty cascade and a 
 little lake, called the One-mile Lake. At the sight 
 of this, Jenny started up from her seat, and cried, 
 ' Oh ! Sylvine, that is Lady-fern's lake, and she is 
 buried beneath the waters, and Snowdon is the giant 
 that died for love of her.' Of course I wanted to 
 know what all this meant, and she repeated to me 
 a pretty fairy-tale that Mademoiselle's friend told 
 her on her homeward journey from Snowdon. The 
 road to Carnarvon was solitary to the utmost degree. 
 A few stone-built hovels and cattle-sheds here and 
 there, and one or two little children, bare-legged and 
 quite wild looking, who ran by the coach with 
 crystals and ores to sell, were the only signs of 
 human habitation. There were also countless small 
 black cows feeding on the pasture, and sheep 
 browsing among the rocks. They climb to the 
 most dangerous looking crags and points; the 
 mystery is, however they get down. The pastures 
 being so well watered all through the year are very
 
 Il8 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 rich, of a bright glistering green ; I do not wonder 
 at the Welsh milk and butter being so delicious 
 when the cows have such grass to feed on. We saw 
 some girls in the meadows milking, and one was 
 returning with her tin pail flung over her shoulder ; 
 she looked such an odd figure, with her bare red 
 legs, and uncombed hair partly covered by an old 
 black hat, and wearing a pink and white cotton 
 bodice and coarse blue skirt. How different to the 
 neatly dressed, tidy village girls in England ! We 
 passed a lonely little inn, called the Snowdon 
 Ranger, where we changed horses, and also some 
 hamlets near to Carnarvon ; we saw a nice little 
 church, around which were a great many grave- 
 stones all formed of slate, and for the most part 
 tastefully trimmed with flowers. It reminded me of 
 the cemeteries I saw in the villages on the Rhine 
 last summer. I like the custom so much. 
 
 " Directly after dinner we went to look over the 
 castle. Jenny walked about with Sylvine, quietly 
 looking at everything, and with a somewhat more 
 cheerful face than she had yesterday; still she is 
 constrained, and quite unlike her happy little self. 
 Carnarvon Castle is a grand old place, by no means 
 dilapidated, but as whole and strong as if it might 
 last for centuries. A curious old Welsh woman sits 
 at the entrance with a table of books, toys, and 
 pictures for sale. Sylvine bought a doll dressed in 
 Welsh costume, with high black hat, to take home 
 to her little friend Zephyrine. How she will laugh ! 
 I bought a book of Welsh melodies ; Mademoiselle 
 a pair of worsted stockings for her father, and Jenny
 
 VARIETIES OF TALK AND TRAVEL. 1 1 9 
 
 a pincushion for her Aunt Ana. We climbed up 
 one of the towers and had a splendid view of the 
 town below, the sea, the Carnarvon mountains, 
 Anglesey, and the greater part of the castle itself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 VARIETIES OF TALK AND TRAVEL. 
 
 " ^PO-MORROW we shall see Mamma," cried 
 Sylvine, joyfully ; " what a great deal we 
 shall have to tell her 1 " 
 
 " I hope your diary is in good order," said Made- 
 moiselle Allemeyer, " and that you are quite ready 
 to show it" 
 
 " I'm afraid it is not very neat but Jenny's is de- 
 lightful," answered Sylvine. " Jenny, do read your 
 diary to Mademoiselle." 
 
 " I think I must defer the pleasure of hearing it 
 till to-morrow," replied the German lady, " for it is 
 certainly high time for you to go to bed, as you will 
 get up early in the morning." 
 
 And Sylvine and Jenny took her advice readily, 
 for they were both tired. About half an hour after- 
 wards Susette opened the door gently. 
 
 "May I speak to you, Mademoiselle Beatrice?" 
 she said in French. 
 
 " Certainly ; come in." 
 
 " Oh, Mademoiselle, I beg your pardon, but I 
 will not keep you many minutes. I know that Miss 
 Jenny is fretting, and I thought it right to tell you, 
 when I left the young ladies just now I saw that she
 
 120 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 was in tears, and indeed I have caught her with tears 
 in her eyes several times lately. And, Mademoiselle, 
 it was not she who spoilt her picture ; I feel quite 
 sure who it was, though I do not like to say." 
 
 " What do you know about the matter, Susette?" 
 asked Beatrice, determined to get at the truth. 
 
 " I only know this," replied Susette, " that when 
 I was putting on my bonnet to come to Carvarvon, 
 Mrs Hill's maid came to me, for we were very good 
 friends, and said, ' My young lady will be glad when 
 your ladies are gone ! ' Why so ? I asked ; ' Because 
 there is a little secret she is afraid will come out,' she 
 said ; and then she told me that the morning before, 
 just at dinner-time, Miss Emily ran to her and said 
 ' Oh, please, Hortense, if any one asks you, don't 
 say I have been into Mademoiselle Allemeyer's 
 dining-room since I dressed.' 'Why not, miss?' 
 asked Hortense, ' Because because,' she replied, 
 with a blush, ' I don't want them to know that is 
 all." But when we heard about the picture, we 
 understood very well what it meant." 
 
 Beatrice not wishing to encourage Susette's gos- 
 siping propensities, dismissed her without a remark 
 upon her disclosure, and taking up a night candle, 
 went immediately to Jenny's room. Aware of Emily's 
 want of candour and right feeling, she at once 
 freed Jenny from all implication in the affair of the 
 picture, and felt a joy at heart to be enabled to do so. 
 
 A ray of moonlight streaked the two little beds, 
 showing Sylvine's rosy checks amid her shining 
 hair, and Jenny's gentle face. Both were very quiet 
 as Beatrice peered softly into the room.
 
 VARIETIES OF TALK AND TRAVEL, 121 
 
 " Are you asleep, Jenny ? " she said. 
 
 "No, Beatrice, not yet; but Sylvine has slept 
 soundly from the moment Susette went down." 
 
 "And why cannot you sleep, darling?" said Bea- 
 trice, sitting down by the bedside. 
 
 "Because because I was thinking about you." 
 
 " And what about me ? " 
 
 Jenny hestitated, and Beatrice stooped down to 
 kiss her, as if by way of encouragement 
 
 "I was thinking, Beatrice, that I should be so 
 happy if you liked me as well as you once did ;" and 
 a tear or two fell as she spoke. 
 
 " Then be happy, for I have come to tell you that 
 if ever I loved you, I love you now twice as well" 
 
 " Oh ! Beatrice, do you mean it ? Do you really 
 think now that I did not hurt your picture ? " asked 
 Jenny with tearful eagerness. 
 
 " I do, indeed, mean it, and I cannot tell you how 
 sorry I am for such a suspicion. I know it has vexed 
 you, though you have been very patient and uncom- 
 plaining. Oh ! Jenny, will you forgive us all ? " 
 The little girl threw herself into Beatrice's arms and 
 wept tears of joy. She never asked her for explan- 
 ation ; she never referred to the trouble she had 
 gone through ; she only expressed, again and again, 
 her gratitude and delight 
 
 The next day at an early hour our travellers were 
 out on the beach, for they were to take the mid-day 
 train to Bangor, and wished to see all that they 
 could of Carnarvon before leaving it Little Jenny's 
 face glowed with happiness, and Sylvine was in un-
 
 122 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 usual spirits ; of course they had a great deal of chat 
 about the picture, and, after many guesses and 
 opinions, somehow discovered Emily Hill, or Emily's 
 maid, to have been the offender. 
 
 " I never thought it was you, and nothing should 
 ever make me," she said warmly ; " and I wish I 
 could think Emily had not done it, but I don't see 
 who else it could be." 
 
 " Well, it is all over and past, and let us try and 
 forget it," said Jenny. " It is always best to forget 
 vexations ; as Aunt Ana often says, ' Take account 
 of the fine days, let the wet ones go.' " 
 
 " What does that mean ? " 
 
 " That we should remember pleasant things, and 
 always be grateful for them, but not think too much 
 of what has been a vexation to us, especially if we 
 could not help it" 
 
 The tide was now low, and many beautiful seaweeds 
 (ay on the shore. 
 
 " Come, Jenny ; come Sylvine," cried Beatrice : 
 " use your hands and eyes, and pick up every bit 
 of pretty seaweed you can see." 
 
 "What do you want them for ? " asks Miss Sylvine, 
 who feels rather indolent. 
 
 " For my portfolio of seaweeds, little idle tnicg." 
 replied Beatrice, smiling. We can't pick up these 
 things at Paris, you know, Sylvine, and when we are 
 settled there for the winter we shall be glad to have 
 some relics of our summer tour. You shall see what 
 lovely pictures these seaweeds make." 
 
 " Well, I don't mind helping you to collect them, 
 but I can't see how they are to be made into pictures."
 
 VARIETIES OF TALK AND TRAVEL. 123 
 
 " Wait and see. Look at Jenny ; doesn't she 
 remind you of the little fisher-girls on the coast of 
 Normandy, with her plaid dress tucked up, and her 
 blue petticoat and high wooden shoes ?" 
 
 Sylvine, not to be outdone, tucked her own little 
 white dress up, and ran out on the sand to assist her, 
 but she did not make quite so good a fisherwoman. 
 However, between the two, Beatrice's basket was 
 filled, and having sorted out those specimens she 
 wished to retain, they returned home, where dinner 
 was waiting. Dinner over, Beatrice's picture-making 
 began. First of all she brought out a dozen or so 
 sheets of stout cartridge paper, and three soft camel- 
 hair brushes. Then she proceeded to spread a knot 
 of seaweed upon one of these pieces of paper, which 
 she did very carefully with the aid of her brush and 
 a large needle, and so arranged the weed as to form 
 of it a pretty picture, as much varied in light and 
 shade as a group of flowers. After she had done one 
 or two, Sylvine and Jenny tried their hands at it, 
 and. after a few efforts, succeeded tolerably, though 
 their groups were more clumsy than Beatrice's. 
 When the weeds were all placed on paper, they were 
 carefully laid in the portfolio beneath heavy weights. 
 A little stroll into the town, tea, and the writing of 
 their diaries finished the day. The next morning 
 they took the early train to Bangor ; a very pleasant 
 journey along the sea-coast.
 
 124 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 CONTENT IS HAPPINESS. 
 
 AMMA, mamma !" cried Sylvine, wildly wav- 
 ing her little white hat out of the window. 
 "Oh! mademoiselle, the train has stopped; do open 
 the door and let me get out to speak to mamma !" 
 
 Just then the door was opened by Monsieur 
 D'Aubencourt himself, and Sylvine, all radiant with 
 delight, held up her rosy face to be kissed. 
 
 " Oh ! papa, papa, where is mamma, and are you 
 going back with us to Nant Llysin, and how long are 
 we to stay at Bangor ?" she said all in a breath, and 
 speaking a curious mixture of French and English. 
 
 " Tiens, ma petite, voila ta maman " (Gently, dar- 
 ling, here is mamma), replied M. D'Aubencourt, 
 smiling at his little daughter's impetuosity, and look- 
 ing down with great pleasure on her healthful face. 
 
 Here Madame D'Aubencourt came forward, lean- 
 ing on Mr Armitage's arm ; he was a grave but 
 pleasant-looking man, and a clergyman of the Church 
 of England. Hardly seeing him, so excited was 
 she, Sylvine embraced her mother again and again, 
 and rattled on 
 
 Oh ! darling mamma, we have seen so much, and 
 have been up Snowdon ; and Jenny is such a dear ; 
 and I've worn out three pairs of boots " 
 
 "And have you no greeting for Mr Armitage?" 
 said her mother, with some vexation. " I am afraid, 
 Sylvine, that you have grown as countrified and ill- 
 mannered as any cottage child."
 
 CONTENT IS HAPPINESS. 1*5 
 
 Sylvine blushed, and holding out her hand, said 
 
 "Please, Mr Armitage, excuse me. I did not 
 know you were the friend mamma is staying with." 
 
 The clergyman smiled, and shook her hand 
 cordially. 
 
 "I hope we shall be good friends," he said, 
 kindly, "and you must amuse my daughter Kate 
 with your adventures." 
 
 " I did not know you had a daughter, sir." 
 
 " Yes ; but poor Kate is an invalid, and cannot 
 climb up Snowdon and travel about as you do," he 
 replied with a sadness in his voice. 
 
 Here they were joined by Mademoiselle Alle- 
 meyer, Beatrice, and Jenny, who followed behind, 
 rather shy at having to encounter strangers. 
 
 "And who is this little girl another niece?" 
 asked Mr Armitage, taking Jenny's hand. 
 
 " Oh dear, no ! " Madame D'Aubencourt replied 
 quickly ; " she is a Welsh acquaintance of Sylvine's, 
 who lives in the Vale of Llysin. What is your 
 name, my dear?" 
 
 "Jenny Roberts," answered Jenny, blushing, for 
 Madame D'Aubencourt always treated her in rather 
 an off-hand way. 
 
 " Not Jenny Jones, the Maid of Llangollen," said 
 Mr Armitage, with a smile, " but Jenny Roberts, the 
 Maid of Nant Llysin. And a wild, lovely spot, too. 
 I remember it well." 
 
 They now proceeded to Mr Armitage's house, 
 Sylvine walking between her parents, her long curls 
 fluttering in the sea-breeze, her eyes dancing with 
 pleasure. Mr Armitage lived in a pretty house,
 
 126 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 commanding a wide prospect of the bay and distant 
 mountains, and his daughter, who was lying in an 
 invalid's chair on the lawn, gave her new guests a 
 hearty welcome. She was a fair, sweet-looking girl, 
 about twenty-five, with delicate firm features, which 
 told you that she suffered much and suffered patiently. 
 At Sylvine's age, she had been rosy-cheeked, full of 
 health, vigour, and activity, but a fall from her horse, 
 at the age of fifteen, had injured her spine and ren- 
 dered her an invalid for life. Kate Armitage could 
 not move from one room to another without assist- 
 ance ; she could not take pleasant walks or rides ; 
 she could not travel from place to place. Yet she 
 began every day with prayer and ended it with praise. 
 Our travellers spent a delightful day at Bangor; 
 indeed no one could be near Kate Armitage without 
 being happy. She seemed to know at once every- 
 body's tastes and pursuits, and found ways and 
 means of gratifying them without the least ostenta- 
 tion or show. Sylvine and Jenny were told at once 
 where to find her aviary, and rockery. Beatrice and 
 Mademoiselle Allemeyer were enraptured with a 
 portfolio of rare water-colour drawings she pro- 
 cured from her sitting-room, whilst she entered into 
 an animated conversation with them regarding their 
 recent tour. At two the dinner-bell rang. There 
 was no ceremony at Mr Armitage' s; the children 
 dined with the rest of the family, and Sylvine was 
 quite astonished to see her mother attired in a simple 
 morning dress without any jewellery whatever. 
 Kate lay on the sofa, and there was quite a scramble 
 between Sylvine and Jenny for the pleasure of
 
 CONTENT IS HAPPINESS. 127 
 
 handing her the salt or the wine. At first, Jenny 
 had felt somewhat abashed at dining amongst so 
 many who were almost strangers to her, but Mr 
 Armitage and Kate seemed to do their utmost to 
 make her feel at home, and showed her exactly the 
 same attention as they did to Sylvine. 
 
 When dinner was over, Kate drew the little girls 
 into conversation. 
 
 " Now," she said, " I expect you to tell me num- 
 bers of delightful stories about Snowdon, and the 
 mountains and the valleys that you have seen. 
 Do you collect ferns? do you keep diaries?" 
 
 "We write diaries, and Beatrice has collected a 
 great many ferns and seaweeds, and written accounts 
 of them," said Sylvine. 
 
 What good girls ! You must let me see these 
 diaries; and have you written down the legends 
 about Owen Glendower, and King Vortigern, and 
 Offa, and the Druids?" 
 
 "Who were the Druids?" asked Sylvine. 
 
 " Perhaps Jenny knows ask her?" 
 
 "The Druids were the priests of the ancient 
 Britons," replied Jenny, modestly, " who used to live 
 in woods and pray to the sun and moon, and to fire 
 and water, as if they were gods." 
 
 " Quite right ; and do you know when this horrid 
 superstition was done away with, and the true God 
 worshipped instead ?" 
 
 "Not exactly, ma'am." 
 
 " About the year 600, and I could tell you a pretty 
 story concerning the introduction of Christianity into 
 England."
 
 128 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " Oh ! I should so like to hear it. I know nothing 
 about history," cried Sylvine. 
 
 " Then you have a great many pretty stories yet to 
 learn. But I think I must defer mine till the evening, 
 for I heard your mamma propose a walk before tea." 
 
 " I would rather hear the story," said Sylvine. 
 
 " But you can hear the story after tea, when there 
 will be no chance of going out," replied Miss Armi- 
 tage, gently; "and two pleasures are better than one." 
 
 Sylvine, always impetuous, darted off to put on 
 her hat ; Jenny lingered behind. 
 
 " I wish you could go too," she said, with tears in 
 her eyes. Kate Armitage drew her to her bosom 
 and kissed her tenderly. 
 
 "Bless you, my child, for that sympathy," she 
 answered softly ; " it is good of you to remember the 
 invalid." 
 
 The walk proved a pleasant one, and the little party 
 returned home with good appetite for the nice muffins 
 and butter with which the tea-table was supplied. 
 The evening closed in early, and it was twilight when 
 the table was cleared, and the children, with Made- 
 moiselle Allemeyer and Beatrice, gathered round the 
 sofa to listen to KATE'S STORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ETHELBERT AND ALFREDA; OR, THE LITTLE CAPTIVES. 
 
 TpWELVE hundred years ago, when our beautiful 
 * England had neither churches, nor towns, nor
 
 CONTENT IS HAPPINESS. 129 
 
 roads ; when only a few huts in a boggy marsh stood 
 where the streets and buildings of London now cover 
 a space of many miles ; when there were no shops, or 
 carriages, or books ; when there were no tall ships in 
 the river, and no rich cargoes of silks, and corn, and 
 coal, piled in the docks, there lived in Kent a Saxon 
 nobleman named Egwurth. He was a rough, fierce 
 man, chiefly delighting in war and the chase, and 
 never scrupled at seizing on any neighbour's property 
 which might lie conveniently near him. He was harsh 
 to the poor also, paying his servants but little wages, 
 and treating them like slaves, and everybody so 
 hated and feared him that he was called the Terrible 
 Man. But there were two beings in the world to 
 #hom he never spoke an angry word, and these were 
 his twin children, Ethelbert and Alfreda. They were, 
 at the time my story begins, about twelve years old, 
 and were much alike, both having fair, delicate com- 
 plexions, blue eyes, and long golden hair. It will be 
 difficult for English children of the present day, who 
 have learned to read and write, and many other things 
 besides, who have nice clothes to fit them, and warm 
 houses to live in, to imagine the life of these little 
 Saxons. They lived in a rude kind of wooden palace, 
 more properly speaking, hut, amid the wild tangled 
 woods and lonely hills of Kent, and were utterly 
 untaught in anything useful or civilizing. As 
 Egwurth the Terrible Man was of so warlike a nature, 
 he took great pleasure in teaching his little son to 
 hunt, and ride, and shoot with the arrow, and as to 
 poor little Alfreda, she must have led a sadly savage 
 life, having no companions of her own age, and no 
 I
 
 130 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 amusements beyond pet dogs, and rude toys made 
 of reeds and wood. But in spite of all this, the 
 children were very happy. Sometimes a gleeman 
 came to their father's house, and would stay several 
 nights, making them so merry with his entertaining 
 stories and songs, that the rough Egwurth would laugh 
 till the tears ran down his red cheeks, and Ethel- 
 bert and Alfreda would clap their little hands for joy, 
 and dance about in their quaintly shaped garments. 
 
 One summer day when Egwurth was far away 
 hunting wild boars, a powerful nobleman, whom he 
 had offended by his greed of gain, made a sudden 
 descent upon his house, and as the men were all gone 
 to the chase with their master, and only a cook, a 
 turnspit boy, and some women were left at home, 
 they met with no resistance, and pillaged and ravaged 
 at will. Every vessel of silver, every spear, and bow, 
 and riding whip, were seized on : the frightened 
 servants were treated with the utmost roughness, 
 and were compelled to give up Ethelbert and Alfreda. 
 And so, weeping and wailing, with their hands tied 
 behind them like slaves, the poor little twins were 
 carried away, and at nightfall when Egwurth 
 returned home, he found his house deserted, his 
 goods plundered, his children gone ! 
 
 For some time the Terrible Man was speechless 
 with the agony of his rage and grief, then striking 
 his spear to the ground, he swore a terrible oath to 
 avenge the spoiler of his hearth and home. All that 
 night he paced the room with dreadful groans and 
 tears, and no one durst speak to him for the black- 
 ness which clouded his brow. In the morning he
 
 ETHELBERT AND ALFREDA. 131 
 
 picked up by chance a little sandalled shoe which 
 he knew belonged to Alfreda, and at that sight he 
 shrieked aloud, and then placing it in his bosom, 
 prepared to take revenge. But just as he was 
 starting at the head of his men, in quest of the 
 aggressors, one of the women servants who had 
 hidden herself in a wood-shed for fear of her 
 master's wrath, now rushed forth, and kneeling at 
 his horse's feet, cried out 
 
 " Oh ! master, promise to spare my life, and I 
 will tell you of your children." 
 
 "Speak, woman, and you shall not be harmed," 
 cried Egwurth, white with impatience. 
 
 " Your children are not dead," said the woman ; 
 "your false neighbour, Cedric, came with a band of 
 armed men and took them away, and we hid up, for 
 we feared when you should come home and say, 
 'Where are my children?' But what could a fe\t 
 weak women do against fifty men?" 
 
 " On, on !" shouted Egwurth to his men, and rode 
 straight away towards the territory of Cedric, neither 
 stopping for food or drink. Once or twice, how- 
 ever, he took out the little shoe and kissed it 
 
 We must now relate what became of Ethelbert and 
 Alfreda. Weeping bitterly, and with heavy chains 
 around their little wrists, they were placed on a rude 
 kind of litter, and carried far through wood and hill 
 till they reached the sea-coast It was now the early 
 dawn, for they had travelled all night, and one of the 
 rough men who guarded them compassionately gave 
 them some hard bread and a morsel of dried meat 
 Ethelbert took courage to address him.
 
 132 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " Where are we going to ? what will they do with 
 DS?" he asked timidly. 
 
 But the man only shook his head and pointed to 
 the sea. 
 
 A little way from the shore lay a ship at anchor, 
 a curious, clumsily built vessel, having a kind of 
 small dwelling-house on deck. By-and-by a boat 
 was sent ashore, and after a good deal of talking in 
 a foreign tongue between the rowers and the noble- 
 man, the children were led to the water's edge, and 
 ordered to get into the boat. Then, for they now 
 understood that they were sold into slavery, the poor 
 little twins threw themselves at the feet of their cruel 
 conqueror, and with their long golden hair streaming 
 to the ground, begged for mercy. As well as their 
 fetters would allow, they pointed to the direction 
 from whence they had come, and then to the sea, 
 crying with tears and sobs, 
 
 " If we cross the sea, we shall never, never see our 
 father again, and what will become of him without 
 Ethelbert and Alfreda. Have pity, good lord, and 
 send us home." 
 
 But the stern man turned away without a word, 
 and the rowers, who were dark-haired and fierce- 
 looking, and spoke a foreign tongue, dragged them 
 roughly into the boat And the boat reached the 
 ship, and the ship cast anchor and sailed far, far 
 away from the woods and hills of Kent, and Egwurth 
 sought revenge, as a lion his prey, ever crying, " My 
 children, my children." 
 
 After many days, and weeks, and months of tossing 
 on the wide ocean, the little captives reached the
 
 ETHELBERT AND ALFREDA. 133 
 
 shore of a fair and beautiful land called Italy, and 
 were carried to Rome. Never having seen anything 
 beyond their father's rude wooden palace, with its 
 coarse wooden benches, uneven floors, and windows 
 made of horn, you can fancy with what wide-open 
 eyes they viewed such a splendid city as Rome then 
 was. With terrified hearts and bent heads they 
 stood in the market-place to be sold as slaves, 
 trembling every moment lest some buyer should 
 come to separate them. It happened on the second 
 day of their exposure a grand procession passed 
 by. First came a crowd of priests robed in white 
 and red, each bearing lighted candles ; they were 
 followed by others clad in white and yellow, who 
 carried branches of palms and crucifixes ; then came 
 a canopy borne on men's shoulders, and on which 
 was seated the Pope, dressed in glittering robes; 
 and the procession closed with a band of young girls 
 wearing white garments and chaplets of flowers, who 
 chanted as they walked r>lowly by. Pope Gregory, 
 on his way through the city, noted the fair sweet faces 
 of the Saxon children, and afterwards inquired who 
 they were. He was answered that they came from 
 England, then called Angle-land. " Alas ! " he said, 
 "they would be not Angli, but Angeli (meaning 
 angels) if they were but Christians." So he sent for 
 the little captives, and having freed them from their 
 slavery, took charge of their education, had them 
 taught to read and write, and above all instructed in 
 the beautiful religion of Christ But he did not 
 stop here. He sent over St Augustine, and many 
 other aood monks, to convert the Saxons and Britons
 
 134 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 from their idolatry and heathenism, and after a time, 
 the horrid rites of the Druids were entirely done 
 away with ; the people learned to worship God with 
 pure hearts and lives, and the blessed name of Christ 
 became known throughout the land. Ethelbert and 
 Alfreda never forgot their native land, but when they 
 were grown up, entreated their kind protector to let 
 them return home, and assist in the good work. 
 " We have a father," they said, " who was a fierce 
 and hard man ; but he loved us, and we can never 
 be happy till we have seen him again. Suffer us to 
 return to the island beyond the sea, that we may 
 comfort his old age, and lead him to the foot of 
 Christ before it is too late." 
 
 So Pope Gregory let them go, and no words of 
 mine can ever tell with what transports of joy 
 Egwurth, the Terrible Man, received his children, 
 whom he had long lamented as dead. He was. an old 
 man now, and could no longer draw the bow and 
 throw the spear as in his robust manhood ; but never 
 in the hunt, or the chase, or the fight, had he lost 
 the little shoe which he carried in his breast as the 
 only relic of his darling ; and now, when she had 
 come back to him a tall, fair woman, with a foreign 
 dress, and skilled in much learning, but with the 
 same old love in her heart, his face softened from its 
 dark expression of rage and misery, and he wept like 
 a little child upon her bosom. And she told him of 
 the gentle Jesus of Nazareth, who died that others 
 might live for ever, and of the heaven above which 
 He has promised to all who believe in Him and 
 repent of their sins, till at length the beauty and
 
 WOODS AND WATERFALLS. 135 
 
 blessedness of the religion of peace dawned on the 
 
 Saxon's mind, and he knelt to Heaven with mingled 
 
 joy and fear, crying 
 
 " Lord, pardon me, for the sake of my children." 
 So the mission of Ethelbert and Alfreda was 
 
 accomplished at last, and they were happy. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 WOODS AND WATERFALLS. 
 
 '"PHE next halting place of our travellers was at 
 A the village of Bettws-y-coed, or the Chapel in 
 the Wood, where everything that is lovely and grand 
 in nature are combined. Woods of fir and beech, 
 mountain ash, and weeping birch ; little nooks of 
 tangled cloud-berry, and stone-bramble, and juniper- 
 shrubs; golden hazel coppices, mountains orange 
 and purple with gorse and heath, dashing cascades 
 over grand old rocks, tiny streamlets bubbling down 
 every hill-side, and making little eddies at the foot; 
 valleys of glowing pasture, and rocks of grey rugged- 
 ness ; oh ! who could be in so sweet a place, and not 
 thank God for the earth he has given us ! 
 
 It was arranged by Monsieur and Madame 
 D'Aubencourt that they should stay two days at 
 Bettws-y-coed, and then proceed to the Valley of 
 Llysin. After a week at Llysin they intended 
 returning to London. Poor little Jenny looked very 
 sad at thoughts of parting from Sylvine. On the 
 first morning of their arrival, they all went to the 
 Swallow Falls, the little girls riding on ponies, and 
 the rest of the party in a car. Jenny, who could
 
 136 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 ride pretty well now, though not so gracefully as 
 Sylvine, looked quite like a wild little mountaineer, 
 with her sunburnt, glowing cheeks and short curly 
 hair all blown over her face by the breeze. 
 
 "My dear Mademoiselle Allemeyer," said Madame 
 D'Aubencourt, "whilst Jenny Roberts is Sylvine's 
 companion, I wish you would give her a few hints 
 as to personal tidiness ; and, good gracious ! what a 
 hat she has on could you not give her one of 
 Sylvine's old ones to wear ? I feel quite ashamed ot 
 her appearance." 
 
 " I don't think Jenny is untidy, Aunt Adele," said 
 Beatrice ; " but her father, it seems, is poor, and her 
 wardrobe is but scanty." 
 
 "The little girl is very well, my dear," added 
 M. D'Aubencourt, shrugging his shoulders; "you 
 cannot expect her to be dressed liks our Sylvine; and 
 indeed in this wild country the little Welsh Jenny's 
 dress is by far the most prudent" 
 
 Meantime Jenny and Sylvine were chatting away 
 merrily enough, little thinking of hats and dresses. 
 
 "I shall write such long, long letters to you," 
 said Sylvine, " and tell you every single thing that 
 happens, even to my lessons. Oh ! what lots of 
 masters I shall have when I once get back to Paris. 
 M. Rossi, to teach me dancing; and Signor Billetti 
 to teach me Italian ; Madame Lissau, for music ; 
 and Herr Scrober, for singing ; then Mademoiselle 
 Allemeyer, for German, and scales, and exercises, 
 and no end of things. Now, you, Jenny, are much 
 luckier, and I do wish I had only Mr Roberts to 
 teach me, as you have. How I should like to stay
 
 WOODS AND WATERFALLS. IJ7 
 
 all the winter at Nant Llysin, and hear all your 
 papa's funny stories and oh ! what lots of holidays 
 I should get." 
 
 Here they reached the falls, and having alighted, the 
 whole party entered a small enclosure, in which was 
 a curious wooden summer-house, or hut, inscribed 
 
 " MARY JONES, GUIDE." 
 
 A pretty-looking, modest girl stepped forth as they 
 entered, and intimated, in curiously mixed Welsh and 
 English, that she was Mary Jones. Following her a 
 few steps down a winding path, a glorious scene 
 burst on their sight On either side arose high 
 banks covered with firs, beech, elms, ash, and other 
 mountain shrubbery. A leaf here and there glittered 
 like gold amid the verdure, which spoke of the 
 approaching autumn. High over black rocks, the 
 river Llugwy is precipitated with impetuous force, its 
 snowy cataract being broken by jutting crags, which 
 dash the water about in all directions. Their smiling 
 guide led them to a flat rock at the foot of the cata- 
 ract, from whence they could safely sit and watch 
 the foaming cascades ; and after having enjoyed the 
 spectacle in silent admiration for some minutes, they 
 returned home. Sylvine and Jenny gathered a wild 
 flower or two as a remembrance of the place, and 
 you may be sure that Mary Jones was well rewarded. 
 Dinner over, Mademoiselle Allemeyer and the 
 three girls took a walk through a lovely little wood 
 at the back of the village. When they had reached 
 a sunny spot where a felled tree afforded a good seat, 
 they sat down to rest.
 
 138 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 "And now, dear Mademoiselle," said Beatrice, 
 coaxingly, " do tell us the different names of all the 
 trees we can see, for I want to put a full account of 
 them in my diary." 
 
 " Oh ! my dear, what a request," answered Made- 
 moiselle, lifting up her hands ; " all the trees we can 
 see, why, it would take an hour to give you an 
 account of one. First of all, there is the name, for, 
 like the names of persons, it must have had an origin; 
 then there is its native country to tell of; its time of 
 emigration to England; its relations and family; 
 the visitors it entertains; its place of abode; its 
 business " 
 
 "Oh! what business can a tree have?" cried 
 Sylvine, laughing. 
 
 " Everybody and everything has its business in 
 this world," said Mademoiselle Allemeyer, "and 
 trees may have many things to do. In the first 
 place, they give board and lodging to hundreds and 
 thousands of living creatures." 
 
 Again Sylvine laughed and opened her eyes. 
 
 "I have heard of owls living in old oaks," she said, 
 "and I know that birds build their nests in trees 
 and hedges, but they don't feed on them." 
 
 "You forget the bright-red hips and haws that 
 keep the poor little robins from starving all winter," 
 resumed Mademoiselle ; " but it was not of birds I 
 was thinking. Myriads of insects live in trees and 
 on their leaves." 
 
 " Do tell us about them," said Jenny. 
 
 " It would take too long to describe even one or 
 two trees accurately, with all its belongings," answered
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 139 
 
 the German lady, smiling her placid smile; but I 
 will tell you a story instead ; a story that was told to 
 me years and years ago, when I was no older than 
 Sylvine." 
 
 " Oh ! please do, Mademoiselle, we have never 
 heard one of your stories yet ! " exclaimed Beatrice. 
 
 " It was told me long ago by my dear father, who 
 was very fond of studying plants and flowers, and such 
 things, and ever since he told me that story I have 
 loved them too." 
 
 And Mademoiselle folded her hands in her quiet 
 manner, and, with a tear in her eye, for she remem- 
 bered her childhood at the grand old city of Nurem- 
 burg and her kind father long, long dead, thus began. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 
 
 '"PHERE was once a great discontent and murmur- 
 A ing amongst all the trees of the forest because 
 they had not a king. 
 
 " Let us have a king," thundered forth the Oak, 
 and stretched out his great arms to attract attention ; 
 " let us have a king like all other civilized institutions, 
 and then every tree shall know its place, and not 
 tread on its neighbour's toes." 
 
 " Let us have a king," said the stiff Poplar, and 
 held himself bolt upright ; " let us have a king who 
 shall prevent such a corpulent old body as yourself 
 from breaking my slender nose." 
 
 " Let us have a king," said the Birch in a gentle
 
 140 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 whisper, and bending its head meekly to the ground; 
 " let us have a king who shall keep order, and pre- 
 vent the harsh chestnut-tree from brushing all my 
 hair into my eyes." 
 
 " Let us have a' king," echoed the Elm ; " a king 
 who shall prevent my enemy the north wind from 
 blowing every rag off my back." 
 
 "Yes, we will have a king," added the Beech, 
 " who shall chastise that rogue the autumn when he 
 comes to rob me of my golden coins." 
 
 " And who shall keep him from shaking off my 
 silver feathers," said the Willow ; " by all means let 
 us have a king." 
 
 So the trees of the forest agreed to have a king ; 
 and now that this was decided on, the great difficulty 
 was, who should it be ? 
 
 It was a very hard matter to settle, and I believe 
 the bickering and quarrels about it would have lasted 
 till now if it had not been for a proposal made by 
 the Oak. 
 
 " What is the use of all this hemming and hating" 
 he cried out in a great rage of impatience, " let us 
 act like reasonable beings. We have resolved to 
 have a king, and him who is worthiest will we crown; 
 but of course every one thinks himself the worthiest, 
 and we must never choose by such one-sided voting. 
 Let us meet this day next year, and he who can 
 bring the greatest number of votes and recommenda- 
 tions from others, he is the one to reign over us." 
 
 So the matter was settled for the time, and each 
 tree went his way, seeking for adherents to uphold 
 him in the great election. And time glided by, and
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 141 
 
 the north wind came, stripping the elm of his rai- 
 ment, and leaving him naked in the cold air, and 
 the autumn crept stealthily into the forest, and 
 robbed the beech of its golden coins one by one, 
 and all the willow's silver feathers of which he made 
 shoes to flee noiselessly away, till the eventful day 
 came at last. 
 
 You may imagine that what with the trees who 
 came to claim the crown, those who came to look on, 
 and those who came to act as voters, the forest was 
 as crowded as it well could be. Notwithstanding 
 this, however, great order prevailed, for the choosing 
 of a king is not an every-day affair, and everybody 
 felt the importance of the occasion. 
 
 The first candidate for regal honours was the 
 Elm, who reared his lofty head as if it already wore 
 a crown, and pointing to his host of supporters, said 
 haughtily, 
 
 " Of what need is there for me to say much. All 
 of you know that I am the descendant of a very 
 noble family, who came over from Italy to settle here 
 long before many of my neighbours ever heard of 
 such a place as England, and have made ourselves 
 so ornamental and useful into the bargain, that what 
 the world would do without us I cannot imagine. 
 Living we are the delight of all eyes by our majestic 
 height and handsome form, whilst our dead bodies 
 are worth their weight in gold." He ceased, and 
 then from the crowd at his feet a country carpenter 
 stepped forth. 
 
 " If it were not for the elm," he said, " I might as 
 well try to fly up to the moon as to get a living by
 
 142 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 my trade. There is no wood in all the forest that 
 will stand sun and rain so well ; what would farmers 
 do without strong gates to keep cattle out of their 
 wheat-fields, and strong carts to carry it to market 
 when reaped ? I vote for the elm." 
 
 "So do I," said the miller; "for my water-mill 
 wheels, which are made of his bone, are as strong as 
 ever, though they have turned the water for years ; 
 and the corn that has been ground there has fed a 
 whole parish." 
 
 " So do I," said a plumber, " and a hundred of my 
 fellow tradesmen; for I have made pumps these 
 twenty years, and never yet of any wood but elm. I 
 am sure nothing is more necessary than good water 
 to drink, and how people would get it without pumps 
 passes my ingenuity." 
 
 And many others also voted for the elm. Then 
 the Birch advanced, and with its head drooped 
 modestly spoke as follows : 
 
 " I have long been honoured by the title of Lady 
 of the Forest ; and as Queen Victoria has shown us 
 pretty plainly that women can govern as well as men 
 if they give their minds to it, I have resolved to offer 
 my humble services, and can only say that if you 
 make me your queen, I will do my best to please you 
 all." 
 
 She bowed meekly and retired. The upholders- 
 were not quite so meek. A whole flock of school- 
 masters rushed forth and cried all in a breath 
 
 " The Birch-tree for ever ! Our scholars are so- 
 mischievous and idle, that if it were not for the birch- 
 rod we should not get a single task well done."
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 143 
 
 Hardly had they thus said, when a multitude of 
 people, who had come all the way from the northern 
 forests of Europe, ranged themselves in the voting 
 ground. 
 
 "There is no fuel so good for iron furnaces as 
 birch sprays," said a charcoal-burner from the Black 
 Forest. 
 
 A troop of dark -haired German girls, with short blue 
 skirts, red bodices, and curiously ornamented caps, 
 now joined hands and danced before the spectators. 
 
 " We have sung ' Buy a Broom ' in all the great 
 cities of Europe," they cried ; "and when our brooms 
 have been of good birch twigs no one has refused to 
 buy them. Make the Birch-tree queen of the forest, 
 and see how we will dance at her coronation." 
 
 " It is the bark of the birch which keeps the rain 
 from drenching us in our beds," said a Norwegian ; 
 " and no tiles in the world can make a better roofing. 
 If she is not made queen there is no justice in the 
 world that's plain ! " 
 
 A Laplander, who looked like a child (for he was 
 but four feet high), with lank black hair and yellow 
 skin, now appeared, whilst a multitude of his country- 
 men, as small as himself, followed at his heels and 
 echoed his words. 
 
 "I can say more than all," he exclaimed, in a 
 shrill voice, " for she is the only friend we have. No 
 other tree is good-natured enough and hardy enough 
 to brave our cold winters, and she soles us, clothes 
 us, and houses us ; from her precious bark we make 
 our shoes, baskets, cords, and lo ! a large sheet of it 
 with a hole cut in the middle for the head, forms the
 
 144 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 very useful-looking coat I have got on. Who wants 
 a better?" 
 
 And he turned himself round and round to be ad- 
 mired; certainly his coat did very well it covered him. 
 
 Then the Lapps retired, and immediately there 
 was heard a great buzzing of wings, and a swarm of 
 moths and lovely butterflies flew into the empty 
 space. There were the Camberwell Beauty, with its 
 magnificent wings, and the pretty Brown-hair Streak, 
 and their cousins, Kentish Glory Moth, Blossom- 
 under-wing Moth, Peppered Moth, Light Orange- 
 under-wing, Oak Beauty, and a great many more. 
 
 " The Birch-tree gives us her leaves for breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper, and she ought to be Queen of 
 the Forest," said the butterflies. 
 
 " The Birch-tree lets us curl up in her wood whilst 
 we get ready our summer garments," said the moths, 
 u and we give her our votes by the dozen." 
 
 And now the Crab-tree took the field. Before he 
 could speak, a countless crowd of schoolboys of all 
 ages and countries came rushing forward, and 
 shouted with deafening voices, 
 
 " Apples for ever, hurrah ! Down with birch rods !" 
 they crwd. " King Apple and half holidays for ever ! " 
 
 The Crab, or Wild Apple-tree, spoke very tartly: 
 
 "My good friends and neighbours," he said, 
 " surely my claims to public favour will not be dis- 
 puted. I am the father of Ripson Pippin, Nonpareil, 
 Squire Bacon, and Russet. I am the sole originator 
 of pie, pudding, and puff ; the supreme relish of all 
 appetites. I will say no more, but leave my claims 
 to your consideration."
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 145 
 
 And greengrocers, apple-women, cooks, and chil- 
 dren spoke very warmly for the Crab. 
 
 Then appeared a slender tree, with waving 
 branches and silvery, who was as modest and gentle 
 as the crab had been sharp and conceited. 
 
 " I am the Osier," she said, " and have no fruit 
 wherewith to savour my recommendations, but I 
 have endeavoured to devote my life to usefulness." 
 
 " That you have," cried a basket-maker ; " I don't 
 know what use all the good things would be at 
 Christmas, unless we had hampers to send them 
 about in." 
 
 " And oh ! we find such cosy places to build our 
 nests in among her branches," piped forth a little 
 Marsh Tit. 
 
 " And such nice swings for me" echoed a pretty 
 Titmouse. 
 
 " And such nice singing bowers for us," said the 
 Black Cap and Sedge Warbler. 
 
 " We are all so grateful to the Osier," put in some 
 fashionable ladies, "for our wicker chairs are the most 
 comfortable things in the world, and our dear little 
 work-baskets what .should we do without them?" 
 
 " You are certainly not very grateful to us," ex- 
 claimed a Juniper tree, angrily, " what can be more 
 useful or pretty than the work-boxes, knitting-cases, 
 desks, and trays made of our bone ? Wicker baskets 
 are well enough for poor people, but Tunbridge ware 
 is far more elegant and suitable for ladies." 
 
 After that, a great many ladies voted in favour oi 
 the Juniper. Then the Walnut tree had a great deal 
 to say. His fruit was so good pickled, and so good 
 K
 
 146 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 ripe. His arms and legs made such handsome tables, 
 sofas, and what-nots. He was such an ornament 
 and a great deal more. 
 
 He did not want for followers, and the next 
 aspirant was the Hazle, who was clad in gold and 
 bung with nuts from top to toe. 
 
 * Who likes to go a-nutting, speak up for me." 
 
 This is all he said, and immediately a pretty red 
 squirrel with bright eyes climbed up to its head, and 
 squeaked forth 
 
 " I like to go a-nutting." 
 
 "Don't we like it?" said some ploughboys, and 
 grinned with their white teeth ; " oh ! it's jolly fun." 
 
 "And don't I like it !" chirped a nuthatch. " Good 
 people, pray make the Hazle king, for he is the most 
 generous tree in the wood." 
 
 " We can't eat the nuts, but the leaves fatten us 
 nicely when we are caterpillars," said Brown-muslin 
 Moth and her relations, Emerald, Copper-under- 
 wing, May High-flyer, Dark-bordered Beauty, with 
 others that I have no time to mention. 
 
 " It's all very well to think of one's dinner, but 
 one must also think of one's back," said the Spindle- 
 tree, coming forward in its ruddy autumn dress, and 
 with its pink seed-vessels fluttering as it moved. " It 
 would never do to starve, but it would certainly never 
 do to go naked. My wood is made into spindles, on 
 which the weavers spin their* thread, and it is thread 
 that makes calico, and calico that makes shirts." 
 
 " Brightly spoken," added a linendraper, " and the 
 spindle has my hearty approval" 
 
 The Lime spoke next, and pianoforte and toy-
 
 THE KING OF THE FOREST. 147 
 
 makers praised its wood, and bees the honey of its 
 blossoms ; and then came the dark-leaved pyramid- 
 shaped Yew. 
 
 " Bows and arrows are only boy's play now," said 
 he, " but don't forget that in days of old they have 
 played a great part in history. It was by the aid of 
 good yew bows that English archers won the battles 
 of Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt. It was by the 
 aid of a good yew bow that William Tell knocked 
 the apple off his son's head and saved Switzerland." 
 
 Many other trees said their say, and each had good 
 qualities to bring forward. Last came THE OAK. 
 
 There were loud cheers from all quarters as the 
 venerable patriarch appeared. He spoke slowly and 
 with great dignity. 
 
 " A thousand years have I lived in this forest," he 
 said, " and though grey and wrinkled, I am still strong 
 and lusty, and put forth green leaves with the spright- 
 liest of you. I have seen kings and races of kings pass 
 away. I have seen mailed knights of Normandy ride 
 beneath my spreading branches when the English 
 people were enslaved and desponding. I have lived 
 to see carriages of steam flash by with daily thousands 
 to the marvel of the world, the great English London. 
 The leaves of my forefathers formed the civic crown 
 of the Romans, and covered the baldness of Caesar ; 
 the ribs of my brothers formed the man-of-war that 
 carried Nelson to Trafalgar." 
 
 It will be impossible to tell all the names of those 
 who voted for the Oak to be king of the forest. 
 
 First came a drove of pigs.
 
 148 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " Grunt, grunt," they said ; " acorns are food fit for 
 kings' tables." Another grunt, and off they went. 
 
 " You give us meat and drink and covering," said 
 a thousand insects, "and we will do our little best 
 for you." 
 
 " You are a very handsome picture to copy," cried 
 a painter, " and there is not a pretty landscape in 
 England without an oak." 
 
 A tremendous cheering was then heard, and a 
 company of jack-tars rushed in, in blue jackets and 
 white trousers. Dancing a wild kind of hornpipe, 
 they tossed up their caps and shouted 
 
 " The Queen and the Navy for ever ! Hurrah foi 
 the jolly old oak ! " 
 
 And the Oak was made King of the Forest 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 '1PHE next morning the whole party went in cars 
 to the lovely Dolwydellan Valley, where on a 
 steep rock, stands the remains of an old castle, 
 celebrated as the birthplace of Llewellyn the Great. 
 One old square tower of solid stone-work still re- 
 mains, which Beatrice sketched, whilst Jenny and 
 Sylvine scampered about like little mountain goats. 
 Jenny, of course, had a great deal to say about her 
 hero, and, when she was tired, sat down on a mossy 
 stone, and pulling out her diary (which she always 
 carried in her pocket), tried to describe the view. 
 This Sylvine was much too indolent to do, but find-
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 149 
 
 ing Beatrice and Jenny too busy to be idle with her, 
 she had recourse to her father, and scrambling to his 
 knee, told him an abridged history of mademoiselle's 
 tale. Returning home to an early dinner, they 
 immediately set out for Corwen, and had a lovely 
 drive between range after range of mountains, glow- 
 ing with the bright hues of furze and heath ; passing 
 quaint little villages, and many peasant women, whose 
 high black hats, and unceasing knitting, much amused 
 them. At Carig-y-Druidirwr, or the Stones of the 
 Druids, the horses were fed and the children regaled 
 on apples, and now Jenny's cheek brightened with 
 joy, for in another hour she would see her father. 
 
 At last the Vale of Llysin gleamed paly-green in 
 the distance, with its rushing river, and grey rocks, 
 and the wee house on the hill-side that her heart 
 loved oh, so well ! 
 
 And now the carriage stopped at the wicker gate, 
 and Mr Roberts came out with kindly greeting; 
 Aunt Ana followed, looking no less pleased. Jenny 
 rushed to her father's arms, forgetful of the presence 
 of Monsieur and Madame D'Aubencourt, forgetful 
 of everything but the joy of seeing him again. 
 
 They had a very merry tea, as you may suppose, 
 to which Monsieur and Madame D'Aubencourt 
 stayed; immediately afterwards returning to the 
 hotel, and at eight o'clock, the children went to bed 
 thoroughly tired. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, a little note 
 came from the hotel to the effect that Madame 
 D'Abencourt wished to speak to Mr Roberts, who 
 went without delay.
 
 150 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " I wished to see you," said the lady, " in order 
 to talk to you about a little matter on which 
 Sylvine's heart is much set. She is very anxious for 
 your daughter to return with her to spend the winter 
 in Paris ; will you consent to her going?" 
 
 Mr Roberts looked somewhat surprised. 
 
 " I knew you would not be prepared for this," she 
 continued, "but thought it better to hear your 
 decision at once, as we are anxious to return home 
 as early as possible." 
 
 " Indeed, you are most kind," replied Mr Roberts, 
 " but I must at present decline any invitations for 
 my child, though I feel sure it would be a great 
 delight to her." 
 
 "Perhaps you are thinking of her return," said 
 Madame D'Aubencourt ; " but do not be uneasy on 
 that head. We should certainly have friends return- 
 ing to England who would take charge of her." 
 
 " I thank you very much, but it was not of that I 
 was thinking. To speak frankly, madame, I could 
 not well afford the expenses of such a journey fol 
 Jenny now, and even if I could, I think it would not 
 do. A visit in so wealthy a family might perhaps 
 make her feel the poverty of her home on her 
 return, and unsettle her for her old duties and 
 studies. It will most likely be her lot to earn her 
 own living when she is grown up, and it is for that 
 future that I am endeavouring to fit her. Rich 
 dresses, expensive living, servants, and visitors are 
 things she will have little to do with." 
 
 " Your reasons are certainly good ones," replied 
 Madame D'Aubencourt, " and I will not try to per-
 
 HOMEWARD BOUND. 151 
 
 suade you from anything you think best for your 
 little daughter." And so the matter ended. When 
 Mr Roberts returned to the cottage he found the 
 three girls seated in the parlour, busily putting up 
 drawings, books, etc. 
 
 " Well," he said, " what have you got to show me 
 after all this jaunting about ?" 
 
 Beatrice brought out her sketches, dried ferns, 
 and sea-weeds ; Jenny slily produced her diary ; and 
 Sylvine hers, much defaced with blots and erasures. 
 
 " I've got nothing worth showing," she said, with 
 a blush and a sigh ; " Jenny's diary is as good as a 
 history, and as neat as can be ; and as to Beatrice, 
 look at her collection !" 
 
 Mr Roberts was equally ready to see and praise 
 all Very pleased was he at the witnesses of 
 Beatrice's industry ; very smilingly he glanced at 
 Jenny's clearly written diary; very patiently he 
 deciphered Sylvine's scrawl. " Good," he said, 
 emphatically, when his scrutiny was over. "We must 
 take heed of what passes round us ; we must seize 
 every opportunity of gaining knowledge, and we 
 must love God better, for every pleasure His works 
 give us." 
 
 Beatrice selected one of her prettiest drawings and 
 placed it in the good man's hand. 
 
 " Do take this as a keepsake from me," she said, 
 with tears in her eyes. " You are the first one who 
 has taught me to love Nature, and I shall always 
 be grateful to you and remember the Vale of Llysin." 
 
 He took the drawing with quiet, earnest thanks, 
 and placed it in his desk.
 
 152 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 " I have nothing to give you," said Sylvine, sor- 
 rowfully. A moment after, however, she rushed 
 from the room, and by-and-by returned carrying a 
 little Prayer-book. 
 
 " This is my keepsake," she said, and clambered 
 to his knee for a kiss ; " and, oh ! you dear, good 
 Mr Roberts, I do so wish you would come to Paris 
 and teach me all the clever things Jenny knows." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 GOOD-BYE. 
 
 '"PHAT evening, when Jenny went to bid her 
 father good night, he took her on his knees, 
 and said seriously 
 
 " My dear child, I have something to say to you 
 before going to bed. Are you aware that Sylvine 
 has wished you to return to Paris with her ? " 
 
 " Yes, papa ; she has often talked about it." 
 
 " Madame D'Aubencourt has herself spoken to me 
 on the subject, and I have thought best to decline 
 the invitation for you at present Are you very dis- 
 appointed, darling?" 
 
 Jenny hid her face on his shoulder to hide a tear 
 that would come spite of her efforts to restrain it 
 
 "No, father," she whispered; "I should very, very 
 much like to return with Sylvine, but I know I can- 
 not, and I have tried not to think upon it" 
 
 Mr Roberts kissed the little girl's forehead. 
 
 " Well done, Jenny," he said ; " it is good to learn 
 self-control and self-denial, for it would vex me very
 
 GOODBYE. 155 
 
 much to see you unhappy; but I am sure you will not 
 lose your cheerful looks for so slight a thing. We shall 
 be very happy together all the winter, shall we not?" 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 " And when you are older, and have finished your 
 first education, perhaps you may have the chance of 
 visiting Paris." 
 
 "What do you mean by my first education?" 
 asked Jenny, raising her head. 
 
 " I mean the education I can give you the educa- 
 tion of childhood; but education itself is never com- 
 plete. We must be learning all our lives, you know ; 
 we must learn from books from people wiser than 
 ourselves from nature, and from life. I try to learn 
 something every day. Think of this, deary ; and 
 now good-night." 
 
 The next day was a very busy one, for there was 
 a great deal of packing to do, and Sylvine and Jenny 
 both contrived to make themselves of use. It was a 
 good thing that they found employment, as it pre- 
 vented them from thinking of the separation on the 
 morrow. Once or twice, however, Jenny could hardly 
 restrain her tears ; she had never had a friend of her 
 own age before, and dearly loved Sylvine; it was 
 therefore a severe trial to part from her. Sylvine 
 seemed to guess what was passing in her mind, for 
 she said several times during the day, " I will write 
 to you once a fortnight, Jenny ; and if ever I come 
 to England I will see you again." 
 
 Morning came. Jenny made a great effort to eat 
 her bread and milk, but the rising tears seemed to
 
 156 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 choke her. Mr Roberts noticed her sad look, but 
 said nothing; Beatrice noticed it also, and, good- 
 naturedly, attempted to cheer her. 
 
 " Now, Jenny," she said, " you must be very busy 
 all winter and get as clever as possible, for who knows 
 but that we may visit Wales again next year. You 
 must make her write long letters to us, Mr Roberts, 
 and see that she tells us all the news, and whether 
 Giant Snowdon wakes to life and runs away, or 
 another Glendower arises to incite all the good quiet 
 old Welsh women to arm for their country." 
 
 " Oh, Beatrice ! " cried Jenny, smiling through 
 her tears, " I never saw you so funny before." 
 
 " Let us have a run round the garden," whispered 
 Sylvine. 
 
 The two little girls ran off with arms entwined, and 
 Sylvine held her hand under the spring, and dranK 
 of its clear waters. 
 
 " Oh ! you pretty sparkling waters," she said ; 
 "oh! you grand old mountains; oh! you lovely 
 green 'meadows when shall I ever see you again?" 
 
 She turned to Jenny with a serious expression on 
 her bright face. 
 
 "Dear Jenny, what a good, contented, unselfish 
 girl you are ! I believe I shall always be better for 
 knowing you; and though and though," here she 
 coloured and hesitated, " I have often been dis- 
 agreeable and unkind, you have never been angry 
 with me, and I shall always love you, Jenny, as long 
 as I live." 
 
 She clasped her arms around Jenny's neck, and 
 her long golden hair mingled with her friend's
 
 CONCLUSION. 157 
 
 brown curls as she held her in a long embrace. 
 Then the carriage drove up, and both knew that 
 they must part. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear, dearest Sylvine, do not forget 
 me," was all that Jenny could say, for her heart was 
 full to overflowing. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear ; I'll write often." 
 
 The other adieus were soon made, and in another 
 moment the carriage rolled off. When it was out of 
 sight, Jenny crept close to her father, and laid her 
 cheek on his arm. 
 
 " What a happy summer this has been, papa," she 
 said, softly ; " but it seems soon gone." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr Roberts; "and as time goes 
 so quickly, we must make every day as good and 
 happy and innocent as we can, and then we need 
 not look back on the past with regret." 
 
 And Jenny never forgot those words spoken to 
 her in an hour of sorrow. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 A LETTER FROM JULIAN HILL TO JENNY ROBERTS. 
 LONDON, Christmas, 185. 
 
 " "PVEAR LITTLE JENNY, I write not only to 
 wish you a merry Christmas and a happy 
 new year, but to be the bearer to you of some good 
 news. You remember that kind, honest man, Evan 
 Evans, in whose house we sheltered on our way 
 home from Festiniog; and you remember, most
 
 158 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 likely, the touching narrative he gave us of his poor 
 little adopted child, Angela Saffi. When I returned 
 to London I lost no time in making every possible 
 inquiry, but it was some time before I obtained the 
 desired results. At length I happened to see in a 
 newspaper the account of an accident which had 
 happened to a man in a theatre, named Andrea 
 Saffi. It seemed that he had been engaged as 
 clown, and fell from an immense height during his 
 performance, so injuring his spine that he died the 
 next day. The writer of the notice recommended 
 to the charity of the public his widow, Maria Saffi, 
 and only child, a girl of ten years, both dependent 
 on their own exertions for support You can fancy 
 how eagerly I rushed off to the widow's humble 
 lodging (the address was given in the paper), and 
 found, to my great joy, that it was indeed our friend 
 Evans' little Angela and her mother. The poor 
 woman gave me a long account of her troubles since 
 that February afternoon, when her husband with his 
 fellow- actors, on their way to Maenturog, encountered 
 the little girl, and took her up with them, he of course 
 recognising her as his own. The poor child could 
 not be consoled for losing her happy mountain home 
 and kind friends ; but at last, by dint of promises 
 and threats, her father prevailed on her to leave off 
 crying and to eat. After many wearisome journeys 
 they reached London, where she was placed with 
 other little girls under the care of a dancing mistress, 
 in order to fit her for the stage. Her mistress was 
 not unkind, but she could not be happy away from
 
 CONCLUSION. 1 59 
 
 the friends of her childhood, and she grew silent and 
 thin and pale. 
 
 At length, one day, when her father had threatened 
 to beat her if she did not laugh and eat like other 
 girls she ran away, and hid in the wilderness 
 of London streets. Here her mother found her, 
 and the two lived for some time in a small attic 
 in Camberwell, earning a scanty pittance by needle- 
 work, and never daring to go out in broad 
 daylight lest they should be discovered. At 
 length, they had saved up a small sum of money, 
 sufficient to carry them to Harwich, from which 
 place they intended to cross over to Antwerp, and 
 beg their way back to Italy. They did not dare 
 to seek the old loved home in Wales. But on the 
 eve of their starting came the tidings of Andrea 
 Saffi's death ; and though as he had been so cruel 
 they could not love him, still they buried him de- 
 cently and put on the best mourning they could 
 afford. I helped them all I could, and you will be 
 delighted to hear that a large sum has been sub- 
 scribed to them by generous people in London, with 
 which they intend to furnish a small house some- 
 where near our old friend Evans, and to take in 
 lodgers during the summer season. Maria is also 
 able to do many little things in fancy work, which 
 she will easily sell to tourists. Fancy, my little 
 Jenny, with what tears of delight Evan Evans and 
 the good Greta will welcome their lost darling, their 
 little strayed lamb, their golden-haired Angela. 
 
 " This is a long letter to you, little friend, and I 
 have still more to say. Sylvine and Beatrice are
 
 160 HOLIDAYS AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 well and happy in Paris ; dear Mademoiselle, who 
 was so kind to us all, is gone to Nuremberg to see 
 her sister and nephews and nieces. Charley, frank, 
 merry, noisy Charley, is gone into the country to 
 make his brothers and sisters merry, and to spoil 
 the shape of the Christmas pudding. Mamma, 
 Emily, and Fred are well, and busy decking the 
 house with holly. I have been hard at work in my 
 study reading Greek and Latin ; for I shall soon be 
 ordained as a clergyman now, Jenny, and I wish to 
 be behind no one in my preparation. I wish 
 and pray earnestly to do my duty to the utmost 
 through life, and never to let pleasure, or sorrow, or 
 joy come between me and the work God has given 
 me to do. And though you are a little girl, Jenny, 
 I am sure you will understand that you have also 
 duties and work given by God to do, and that you 
 must pray night and day that your work in life may 
 be well done. Pray also, my child, that your heart 
 may be kept innocent, and thankful, and true, and 
 that you may never prove unworthy of the teachings 
 you have had in childhood. 
 
 " Many happy, useful, blessed years to my little 
 Jenny. " From her affectionate friend, 
 
 JULIAN HILL." 
 
 THE END.
 
 A SELECTION 
 
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 The Eskdale Herd Boy. By LADY STODDART. 
 
 Mrs. Leicester's School. 
 
 ~By CHARLES and MARY LAMB. 
 
 The History of the Robins. B>- Mrs. TRIMMER. 
 Memoir of Bob, the Spotted Terrier. 
 Keeper's Travels in Search of His Master. 
 
 The Scottish Orphans. By LADY STODDART. 
 
 Never Wrong. 
 
 The Life and Perambulations of a Mouse. 
 
 The Son of a Genius. By Mrs. HOFLAND. 
 
 The Daughter of a Genius. By Mrs. HOFLAND. 
 Ellen, the Teacher. By Mrs. HOFLAND. 
 
 Theodore ; or, The Crusaders. By Mrs. HOFLAND. 
 
 Right and Wrong. By the Author of " Always Happy." 
 Harry's Holiday. By JEFFERYS TAYLOR. 
 
 NOTE. Over a Million Volumes of this 
 Series have been sold.
 
 PUBLISHED BY E. P. DUTTON AND CO. 
 
 Books at Fifty Cents each. 
 
 i6mo. Cloth, Covers printed in Gold, Silver, and 
 
 Black, fully illustrated, each Book containing 192 
 
 pages of Closely-printed Reading Matter. 
 
 Adventures in Fanti-land. By Mrs. R. LEE. 
 
 African Crusier (The). By S. WHITCHURCH SADLF.R. 
 
 Always Happy. 
 
 Aunt Mary's Bran Pie. By the Author of St. oiave's." 
 
 A Child's Influence. By LISA LOCKYER. 
 
 Battle and Victory. By c. E. BOWEX. 
 
 Constance and Nellie. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Corner Cottage, and its Inmates. 
 
 By FRANCES OSBORNE. 
 Distant Homes. By Mrs . j. E . AYLMER. 
 
 Father Time's Story Book. 
 
 By KATHLEEN KNOX. 
 
 From Peasant to Prince. By Mrs. PIETZKER. 
 
 Girlhood Days. By Mrs> SEYMOUR 
 
 Good in Everything. By Mrs< BARWELL. 
 Granny's Wonderful Chair. 
 
 By B. F. BROWNE. 
 
 Happy Holidays. By EMMA DAVENPORT . 
 
 Happy Home. By LADY LUSHINGTON. 
 
 NOTE. Over a Million Volumes of this 
 Series have been sold.
 
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 Books at Fifty Cents each continued. 
 
 i6mo. Cloth, Covers printed in Gold, Silver, and 
 
 Black, fully illustrated, each Book containing 192 
 
 pages of Closely-printed Reading Matter. 
 
 The Heroic Wife. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Helen in Switzerland. By LADY LUSHINGTON. 
 
 Holidays Abroad. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Lucy's Campaign. By M. & c. LEE. 
 
 Lost in the Jungle. By AUGUSTA MARRYAT. 
 
 Louisa Broadhurst. By A. MILNER. 
 
 My Grandmother's Budget. By Mrs. BRODERIP. 
 
 Our Birthdays. By EMMA DAVENPORT. 
 
 Our Home in the Marshland. By E. L. F. 
 
 Parted. By N. D'ANVERS. 
 
 Pictures of Girl Life. By c. A. HOWELL. 
 
 School Days in Paris. By M. s. LE JEUNE. 
 
 Starlight Stories. By FANNY LABLACHE. 
 
 Sunnyland Stories. By the Author of < ' St. Olave's. " 
 
 Tittle-Tattle. 
 
 Master Bobby. 
 
 Mudge and Her Chicks. 
 
 My Grandmother's Budget. By Mrs. BRODERIP. 
 
 Talent and Tatters. By HOPE WRAYTHE. 
 
 The Vicar of Wakefield. By OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 Willie's Victory. 
 
 NOTE. Over a Million Volumes of this 
 Series have been sold.
 
 PUBLISHED BY E. P. DUTTON AND CO. 
 
 At Seventy-five Cents a Volume. 
 
 The "Bunchy" Series. 
 
 Crown 8v0, Cloth Elegant, Bevelled Boards, Gilt Edges, 
 
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 Bunchy. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 
 Atrican Pets. By F. CLINTON PARRY. 
 
 Bryan and Katie. By ANNETTE LYSTER. 
 
 Cast Adrift : The Story of a Waif. By Mrs. H. H. MARTIN. 
 A Daring Voyage. By the Brothers ANDREWS. 
 
 Every Inch a King. By Mrs. J. WORTHINGTON BLISS. 
 
 Family Feats. By Mrs. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 Fearless Frank. By Mrs. GELLIE. 
 
 A Gem of an Aunt. By MRS. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 Gerty and May. By the Author of "Our White Violet." 
 
 Grandfather. By E. C. PHILLIPS, Author of " Bunchy." 
 
 Great and Small. By Miss HARRIET POOLE. 
 
 Growing Up. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS. 
 
 Hilda and Her Doll. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 
 The House on the Bridge. By C. E. BOWEN. 
 
 Hugh's Sacrifice. By CECIL MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Nora's Trust"" By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 Punch. By E. C. PHILLIPS. 
 
 Ten of Them. By MRS. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 " Those Unlucky Twins ! " By ANNETTE LISTER. 
 
 Two Rose Trees. By Mrs. MINNIE DOUGLAS. 
 
 Ways and Tricks of Animals. By MARY HOOPER. 
 
 By Mrs. R. M. BRAY. 
 
 Boy Slave in Bokhara. By DAVID KER. 
 
 Wild Horseman of the Pampas. By DAVID KER. 
 
 Dolly, Dear ! By M. E. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 On the Leads. By Mrs. A. A. STRANGE BUTSON. 
 
 St. Aubyn's Laddie. By E. C. PHILLIPS.
 
 NEW AND APPROVED BOOKS 
 
 One Dollar a Volume. 
 
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 BOYS' OWN FAVOURITE SERIES. 
 
 Under this Title we issue, in one uniform series, 
 a number of the best known and most popular books 
 for boys, written by their favourite authors, such as 
 W. H. G. Kingston, G. A. Henty, Rev. II. C. Adams, 
 Jules Verne, E. Marryat Norris, and others. 
 
 The books are well printed in i2mo size, on good 
 paper, and strongly and elegantly bound, and will be 
 found the cheapest and best library for boys' reading. 
 Each volume contains from 350 to 500 pages of solid 
 reading, and they are all well illustrated. 
 
 ManCQ. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 ^- By HARLEIGH SEVERNE. 
 
 The African Wanderers. By Mrs. LEE. 
 
 Tales of the White Cockade. 
 
 ~ By BARBARA HUTTON. 
 
 The Three Admirals. By w. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Missing Ship. By w. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Will Weatherhelm. By w. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The Fiery Cross. By BARBARA HUTTON. 
 
 Harty the Wanderer. By FARLEIGH OWEN.
 
 PUBLISHED BY E. P. DUTTON AND CO. II 
 
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 Travel, War, and Shipwreck. 
 
 By Colonel PARKER GILLMORE. 
 True Blue. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 The North Pole. 
 
 John Deane. By W. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 
 College Days at Oxford. B y the Rev. H. C. ADAMS. 
 
 Mark Seaworth. By w. H. G. KINGSTON, just Out. 
 Hurricane Hurry. By w. H. G. KINGSTON, just Out. 
 
 Salt Water. By w . H . G . KINGSTON. Just Out. 
 
 Out on the Pampas. By G . A. HENTY. just Out 
 
 Peter the Whaler. By w . H . G. KINGSTON. 
 
 Early Start in Life. By E . MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Fred Markham in Russia. By w. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 The Three Midshipmen. By w . H . G. KINGSTON. 
 The Three Commanders. By w. H. G. KINGSTON. 
 The Three Lieutenants. By w . H . G. KINGSTON. 
 The Young Francs-Tireurs. By G. A. HENTY.
 
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 GIRLS' OWN FAVOURITE SERIES. 
 
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 Rosamond Fane. By M. & c. LEE. 
 
 Simplicity and Fascination. By ANNE BEALE. 
 
 Isabel's Difficulties. By M. R. CAREY. 
 
 Millicent and her Cousins. 
 
 By the Hon. AUGUSTA BETHELL. 
 Aunt Hetty's Will. By M. M. POLLARD. 
 
 Silver Linings. By Mrs. BRAY. 
 
 Fheodora. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 Alda Graham. By E. MARRYAT NORRIS. 
 
 The Court and the Cottage. B y EMMA MARSHALL. 
 Michaelmas Daisy. A New Story. 
 
 By SARAH DOUDNEY. 
 
 The New Girl ; or, The Rivals. 
 
 By Mrs. GELLIE. 
 
 The Oak Staircase. The Stories of Lord 
 and Lady Desmond. By M. & c. LEE.
 
 PUBLISHED BY E. P. BUTTON AND CO. 13 
 
 One Dollar a Volume. 
 
 THE 
 
 GIRLS' OWN FAVOURITE SERIES-^'^ 
 
 For a Dream's Sake. By Mrs. A. H. MARTIN. 
 
 Gladys, the Reaper. 
 
 By ANNE BEALE, Author of " Simplicity and Fascination." 
 
 Stephen, the Schoolmaster. A Story without 
 
 Plot. By Mrs. GELLIE (M. E. B.) 
 
 My Sister's Keeper. By LAURA M. LANE. 
 
 " Bonnie Lesley." By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 
 
 Left Alone ; or, The Fortunes of Phillis 
 Maitland. 
 
 By FRANCIS CARR, Author of "Tried by Fire,"&c. 
 
 Very Genteel. 
 
 By the Author of " Mrs. Jerningham's Journal." 
 
 My Mother's Diamonds. 
 
 By MARIA J. GREER. With a Frontispiece by A. LUDOVICI. 
 A Wayside Posy. By F. LABLACHE. 
 
 Her Title of Honour. By HOLME LEE. 
 
 Guide, Philosopher, and Friend. 
 
 By Mrs. HERBERT MARTIN. 
 
 A Generous Friendship. 
 
 Through a Refiner's Fire. By ELEANOR HOLMES.
 
 14 NEW AND APPROVED BOOKS 
 
 E very-day Life in our Public Schools. 1.50 
 
 Edited by CHAS. EYRE PASCOE. 
 
 Clement's Trial and Victory. 1.25 
 
 By M. E. B. (Mrs. GELLIE). 
 Castles and their Heroes. By BARBARA HUTTON. i . 25 
 
 Talent in Tatters. By HOPE WRAYTHE. 1.25 
 
 Lee (Mrs.) Anecdotes of Birds, Reptiles, 
 and Fishes. i.oo 
 
 Lee (Mrs.) Adventures in Australia. i.oo 
 
 Secret of Wrexford (The). By ESTHER CARR. 0.75 
 
 Angelo ; or, The Pine Forest in the Alps. 0.60 
 
 By GERALDINE E. JEWSBURY. 
 Featherland. By G. M. FENN. 4th Thousand. 0.60 
 
 Humble Life: A Tale of Humble Homes. 
 
 By the Author of " Gerty and May," &c. 0.60 
 
 Little LIsette, the Orphan of Alsace. .6o 
 
 By M. E. B. (Mrs. GELLIE). 
 
 Playing at Settlers. By Mrs. R. LEE. 0.60
 
 PUBLISHED BY E. P. BUTTON AND CO. IS 
 
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 Crown 8vo, well printed on good paper, and strongly bound in cloth 
 
 elegant, bevelled boards, gilt edges. Each volume contains 
 
 from 300 to 400 pages of solid reading. 
 
 All Fully Illustrated by eminent Artists. 
 
 From Cadet to Captain. By j. PERCY GROVES. 
 
 Friends though Divided. By GEO. A. HENTY. 
 
 Eight full-page Illustrations. 
 
 Hair Breadth Escapes. By Rev. H. c. ADAMS. 
 
 In Times of Peril : a Tale of India. 
 
 By GEO. A. HEXTY. Sixteen full-page Illustrations. 
 
 The Mystery of Beechy Grange. 
 
 By the Rev. H. C. ADAMS, Author of " Hair-breadth Escapes," &c. 
 
 Who did it ? A Tale of School Life. 
 
 By the Rev. H. C. ADAMS. 
 Who was Philip ? By the REV. H. C. ADAMS. 
 
 A Soldier Born. By j. PERCY GROVES. 
 
 Author of " From Cadet to Captain," &c. 
 
 The Briny Deep. By Captain TOM. 
 
 Being a Narrative of the Life and Adventures of the Author. 
 
 The Cruise of the Theseus. By ARTHU R KNIGHT. 
 
 Self Conquered. By BERNARD HELDMANN. 
 
 A Chapter from the Life of George Denton. 
 
 The Rival Crusoes. By w . H . G. KINGSTON.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 LOT Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 OCT 2 
 
 
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